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THE   SCOTT  LIBRARY. 


ENGLISH  FAIRY  AND  OTHER 
FOLK  TALES. 


,*,    »OK    TOLJ-    LIST  or    THE   VOLOMBS   IN   THIS  SERIES, 
SES  CATALOGUB   AT   BNC   OF    BOOK. 


English  Fairy  and  other  Folk 
Tales.  Selected  and  Edited, 
WITH  AN  Introduction,  by 
Edwin  Sidney  Hartland. 


THE  WALTER  SCOTT   PUBLISHING  CO.,  LTD. 

LONDON   AND  FELLING-ON-TYNE. 

NEW  YORK:  3  EAST  14TH  STREET. 


CONTENTS. 


NURSERY  tales- 
Jack  THE  GlANT-KlLLER 
The  Princess  of  Canterbury 
The  Princess  of  Colchester 
Mr.  Fox 
"Tom  Tit  Tot" 
Jack  and  the  Bean-Stalk 

SAGAS— 
Historical  and  Local — 

The  Story  of  Saint  Kenelm 

Wild  Edric 

Lady  Godiva 

The  Legend  of  the  Sons  of  the  Conqueror 

The  Legend  of  Becket's  Parents 

The  Fause  Fable  of  the  Lord  Lathom 

Whittington  and  his  Cat 

The  Pedlar  of  Swaffham 

The  Lambton  Worm 

Bom ERE  Pool       .... 
Giants — 

The  Origin  of  the  Wrekin    . 

The  Blinded  Giant 
Fairies — 

Worcestershire  Fairies 

The  Fairy's  Midwife   . 

The  Adventure  of  Cherry  of  Zennor 

The  Fairy  Funeral 

The  Piskies  in  the  Cellar     . 

Edwin  and  Sir  Topaz   . 

The  Two  Serving  Damsels 

The  Tulip  Bed   .... 

The  Fisherman  and  the  Piskies 

A  Fairy  Caught 

Colman  Grey      .... 

The  King  of  the  Cats 

A  Myth  of  Midridge    . 

The  Green  Children    , 

The  Fairy  Banquet 

The  Fairy  Horn 


CONTENTS. 


Fairies — continued — 
The  Fairy  Fair  . 
The  Fairies'  Caldron  . 
The  Cauld  Lad  of  Hilton 
The  Fairy  Thieves 
The  Boggart 
Ainsel       ... 
Legend  of  the  Rollright  Stones 

The  Devil  and  other  Goblins — 
Dando  and  his  Dogs     . 
The  Demon  Tregeagle 
The  Parson  and  Clerk 
Outwitting  the  Devil 
The  Hunted  Hare 
The  Well  of  St.  Ludgvan 
The  Hedley  Kow 

Witchcraft— 

The  Lord  of  Pengerswick 
The  Witch  and  the  Toad 
Witch  and  Hare 
The  Hand  of  Glory     . 
Betty  Chidley  the  Witch 
The  Bag  of  Flour 
Kentsham  Bell  . 

Ghosts — 

A  Bishop's  Ghost 

A  Clergyman's  Ghost  . 

The  Haunted  PIouse     . 

Ghost-Laying  Stories  . 

The  Roaring  Bull  o'  Bagbury 

The  White  Lady  of  Blenkinsopp 

The  Haunted  Widower 

The  Ghost  of  Rosewarne 

The  Lady  with  the  Lantern 

Spectre-Dogs 

Billy  B 's  Adventure 

DROLLS— 

The  Wise  Fools  of  Gotham 

The  Three  Wishes 

The  Miller  at  the  Professor's  Examination 

Stupid's  Mistaken  Cries 

The  Three  Sillies 

Mr.  Vinegar 

Lazy  Jack 

The  History  of  Tom  Thumb 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  following  collection  of  English  Folk  Tales  docs 
not  pretend  to  be  more  than  a  presentation,  in  a  more 
or  less  literary  form,  of  a  few  of  the  traditional  stories, 
formerly  no  doubt  rife  in  this  country,  but  now  fast 
disappearing  under  the  stress  of  modem  life.  The 
reader  will  of  course  miss  many  of  those  with  which 
he  has  always  been  familiar — many  for  which  the 
term  Fairy  Tale  has  always  seemed  to  him  to  have  a 
special  connotation.  One  of  the  reasons  for  this  is 
that  several  of  such  tales  are  not  of  true  native 
growth,  but  were  introduced  from  France  by  means 
of  the  chap-book  translations  to  which  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  refer  presently.  Another  reason  is  to  be 
found  in  the  complaint  recently  made  by  a  distin- 
guished writer  that  a  good  version  of  his  old  favourite, 
Jack  the  Giant-Killer,  was  hard  to  procure.  I  have 
indeed  ventured  to  include  a  version  of  this  particular 
tale,  though  it  can  by  no  means  be  denied  that  time 
and  circumstances  have  dealt  hardly  with  it,  as  with 
many  like  it    The  story  bears  marks  of  the  weathering 


viii  INTR  OD  UCTION. 

of  ages,  and  can  no  longer  be  given  with  its  details 
as  clear  and  sharply  cut  as  are  those  of  corre- 
sponding stories  in  other  countries.  Nay,  even  many 
of  its  outlines  are  broken  and  destroyed :  it  is  but  a 
poor  maimed  thing,  and,  what  is  worse,  it  is  by  no 
means  solitary  in  its  ruin. 

This  blurring  of  detail  and  destruction  of  outline, 
moreover,  only  repeats  within  the  limits  of  the  indi- 
vidual story  what  has  been  going  on  with  every  class 
of  traditions.  Whole  stories  have  disappeared,  and 
are  disappearing  from  day  to  day.  In  England  and 
in  Scotland  we  have  perhaps  managed  to  keep  speci- 
mens of  every  kind  of  traditional  narrative ;  but  from 
Wales  one  entire  class — and  that  one  of  the  most 
important — has  vanished  utterly.  The  different  fates 
of  English  and  Welsh  folk  tales  lead  us  so  far  beyond 
commonplace  generalities  about  the  decay  of  tradition, 
that  I  am  tempted  to  spend  a  few  words  upon  them. 
In  doing  so  it  will  be  needful  first  of  all  to  explain 
that  Tales  or  Traditional  Narratives  are  capable  of 
being  divided  into  at  least  five  classes — namely, 
Sagas,  Nursery  Tales,  Drolls,  Apologues,  and  Cumu- 
lative Tales.  Beast  Tales  may  perhaps  be  added  as 
a  sixth  class ;  but  most  of  the  examples  can  be 
assigned  places  in  one  or  other  of  the  classes  pre- 
viously named.  I  will  not  trouble  the  reader  with  a 
definition  of  all  these  classes  :  it  is  only  necessary  for 
my  purpose  to  explain  the  first  two. 


INTRODUCTION.  & 

A  Saga  is  a  traditional  narrative  which  is  believed 
to  be  true,  and  which  relates  to  some  definite  human 
person  who  is  held  to  have  really  lived,  or  to  some 
definite  locality,  or  to  the  power  and  deeds  of  some 
deity  or  other  supernatural  being  or  race  of  beings. 
Frequently  the  human  person,  the  definite  locality, 
and  the  supernatural  beings  are  all  brought  together 
into  one  Saga  ;  more  usually  two  only  of  these 
elements.  But  in  any  case  it  is  essential  that  the 
people  by  or  among  whom  the  story  is  told  should 
have  faith  in  the  veritable  occurrence  of  the  events 
related.  A  Nursery  Tale,  or  Mdrchen  (to  use  the 
simpler  German  name),  on  the  other  hand,  is  not 
believed  as  an  actual  narrative  of  fact.  Its  hero  is 
quite  unknown  to  history :  its  scene  is  not  laid  at  any 
special  place  or  period.  "  Once  up6n  a  time,  in  a 
certain  town  or  village,"  is  a  sufficient  description  of 
place  and  period  for  the  obscure  son  of  a  nameless 
poor  widow.  Occasionally,  it  is  true,  names  are  fitted 
to  persons  and  localities.  But  they  are  selected  at 
random ;  and  we  hear  of  Scotland,  Norway,  France, 
or  Spain,  and  their  kings,  not  because  it  is  intended 
to  make  any  assertion  concerning  those  realms  and 
their  monarchs  to  which  our  credence  is  asked,  but 
simply  to  assist  the  imagination  in  following  the 
flight  of  the  tale.  A  Nursery  Tale  is,  like  a  Saga,  a 
narrative  which,  for  want  of  a  better  word,  and  as 
opposed   to   Drolls,   or   comic    tales,   we    must    call 


z  INTRODUCTION. 

serious ;  it  usually  deals  with  the  supernatural,  and 
its  termination  is  invariably  fortunate  :  Jack  must 
marry  the  princess,  and  Cinderella  the  prince,  at  last 
As  its  name  implies,  it  is  a  tale  told  to  children. 

A  considerable  number  of  English  and  Welsh  folk 
tales  have  been  collected  and  written  down.  But 
whereas  Nursery  Tales,  or  Mdrchen,  form  a  large 
proportion  of  the  stories  found  in  other  countries, 
those  recorded  in  England  are  very  few,  while  it 
is  a  remarkable  fact  that  not  a  single  mdrchen  has 
been  discovered  in  Wales.  By  far  the  greatest 
number  of  English  and  Welsh  stories  are  Sagas. 
The  connection  between  Sagas  and  Nursery  Tales  is 
very  close,  in  spite  of  the  substantial  distinction  laid 
down  above.  Indeed,  so  nearly  are  they  related  that 
the  same  story  is  frequently  told  in  one  place  as  a 
Saga  about  a  well-known  man,  or  locality,  and  in 
another  as  a  Nursery  Tale,  without  any  greater  claim 
upon  belief  as  an  account  of  actual  events  than  the 
fable  of  the  Fox  and  the  Grapes.  Many  of  the 
mdrchen  of  foreign  nations  assume  in  this  country 
the  form  of  sagas.  What  the  exact  relationship  is 
between  these  two  classes  of  stories  has  not  yet  been 
determined.  Did  all  these  traditional  narratives  exist 
first  as  Sagas  ?  and  did  men  in  the  process  of  time, 
and  in  the  course  of  their  tribal  wanderings,  forget 
the  persons  and  the  periods  and  the  places  to  which 
properly  belonged   the   incidents   they   remembered, 


INTRODUCTION.  xi 

and  continue  to  relate  those  incidents  apart  from 
the  names  and  other  particulars  ?  Or  were  Nursery 
Tales  the  first  slow  growths  of  human  fancy  ?  and 
after  they  had  been  floating  about  on  the  waves  of 
speech  for  awhile,  did  they  one  after  another  anchor 
themselves  at  different  spots  and  upon  various  human 
and  superhuman  personalities,  and  thus  obtain  more 
or  less  credit  as  facts  ?  Or  again,  are  Sagas  and 
Mdrchen  independent,  but  similar,  growths,  assuming 
the  one  form  in  one  set  of  circumstances,  and  the 
other  in  a  different  set?  The  present  state  of  our 
knowledge  does  not  admit  of  a  definite  answer  to 
these  questions.  Their  solution,  if  it  is  ever  to  be 
attained,  must  be  wrought  out  in  detail  by  tracing  the 
history  of  each  story  separately.  But  the  determina- 
tion of  the  relations  of  Saga  and  Mdrchen  is  not 
necessary  for  the  consideration  of  the  present  prob- 
lem ;  for  in  any  case  it  is  quite  clear  that  both  kinds 
of  tradition  are  of  immemorial  antiquity.  Not  only 
do  we  find  them  both  fully  developed  among  distant 
savages,  such  as  the  Hottentots  and  the  American 
Indians,  whose  grade  of  civilisation  the  Aryan  races 
had  passed  and  left  behind  long  ere  the  dawn  of  his- 
tory, but  the  ancient  Egyptians  have  bequeathed  to 
us  stories  of  the  same  kind  in  manuscripts  computed 
by  scholars  to  be  at  least  five  thousand  years  old. 
And  it  is  quite  inconceivable  that  the  Welsh  alone  of 
all  the  earth  were  destitute  of  nursery  tales.   Moreover, 


xii  INTRODUCTION. 

the  form  and  incidents  of  more  than  one  of  the 
famous  Mabinogion  in  the  Red  Book  of  Hergest  are 
such  as  to  render  it  highly  probable  that  they  have 
been  evolved  from  miirchen.  It  is  equally  inconceiv- 
able that  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  which  produced 
Beowulf,  the  Robin  Hood  ballads,  and  Chevy  Chase, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  masterpieces  of  imaginative  litera- 
ture whose  authors  we  know,  should  have  been  poor 
in  those  stories  which  earliest  feed  the  fancy  of  the 
child.     Why  then  have  these  mdrchen  disappeared  ? 

We  can  only  reply  by  conjecture.  But  it  must  be 
observed,  in  the  first  place,  that  sagas,  by  their  very 
nature  as  pretending  to  record  actual  events,  have  a 
greater  chance  of  life  than  stories  told  only  for 
amusement,  and  that  chiefly  the  amusement  of 
children.  Grown-up  men  and  women  forget  the 
latter,  or  become  ashamed  of  them,  and  try  to  believe 
that  they  have  forgotten  them,  while  they  still  accept 
and  gravely  repeat  the  former.  These  they  tell  to 
travellers,  who  write  them  down  for  the  information 
of  more  advanced  or  more  inquisitive  peoples. 
Credulous  chroniclers  weave  them  into  their  narra- 
tives as  authentic  history.  Preachers  discourse  on 
them  at  large ;  and  moralists,  or  simply  gossiping 
writers  of  anecdotes,  use  them  to  illustrate  some 
laboured  theme,  or  drag  them  in  for  their  very 
strangeness.  In  all  these  ways  English  and  Welsh 
sagas  have  become  preserved  in  the  amber  of  litera- 


r 


INTROD  UCTION.  arili 


ture ;  and  poets,  enraptured  with  their  beauty,  have 
rendered  many  of  them  imperishable  as  the  mind  of 
man.  But  to  the  nursery  tale,  as  such,  these  avenues 
of  transmission  are  closed.  The  continuance  of  its 
existence  depends  upon  its  popularity  with  successive 
generations  of  mothers  and  children.  If  anything 
occur  to  diminish  or  destroy  its  popularity,  it  fades 
out  of  memory  and  is  no  more.  True,  its  separate 
incidents,  or  the  more  striking  of  them,  may  retain 
an  independent  life  by  virtue  of  their  hold  on  the 
collective  imagination  of  the  race.  They  may  be 
taken  up  into  sagas,  or  even  into  other  mdrcheny  or 
transformed  into  drolls;  but  the  tale  of  which  they 
originally  were  part  vanishes. 

Now,  could  we  suppose  that  by  some  means  a 
whole  cycle  of  nursery  tales  should  lose  its  popularity 
and  thus  be  lost,  we  should  have  exactly  the  state  of 
things  we  actually  find  in  Wales,  and  to  a  somewhat 
less  extent  in  England,  and  perhaps  the  Lowlands  of 
Scotland.  Every  other  European  country  possesses 
an  ample  store  of  these  narratives ;  but  few  have 
been  recorded  in  the  Scottish  Lowlands,  fewer  still  in 
England,  and  none  at  all  in  Wales.  It  may  of  course  be 
said  that  they  have  not  been  sought  for.  Because  they 
are  mostly  recounted  for  the  enjoyment  of  children, 
who,  as  they  advance  in  years,  outgrow  the  infantine 
condition  of  thought  which  delights  in  them,  they  are 
less  easy  of  collection.     Adults  who  have  not  really 


xlv  INTRODUCTION. 

forgotten  them  do  not  care  to  repeat  them  except  to 
their  children ;  and  strangers  who  do  not  specially 
seek  them,  and  that  with  very  great  tact,  do  not  hear 
thenx  It  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  even  an  experi- 
enced collector  of  folktales  to  meet  with  much 
difficulty  in  obtaining  mdrchen.  Although  he  may 
find  persons  willing  to  communicate  their  traditional 
lore,  he  will  not  easily  make  them  understand  that  he 
can  attach  any  importance  to  nursery  tales,  and  when 
he  succeeds  in  doing  this  his  story-tellers  will  simply 
suppose  that  he  wants  to  hear  them  in  order  to  turn 
them  into  ridicule,  and  will  consequently  pretend  not 
to  know  any.  It  requires,  therefore,  much  patience 
to  extract  them,  and  frequently  they  are  only 
discovered  by  accident.  Yet,  when  all  this  is  taken 
into  account,  if  the  Welsh  have  any  mdrclten  remain- 
ing, it  is  at  least  odd  that  none  of  them  have  been 
recorded.  We  are  accordingly  driven  upon  the 
supposition  that  they  are  lost ;  and  in  looking  for  a 
cause  we  must  not  omit  from  our  consideration  tlie 
partial  loss  of  similar  traditions  among  the  English 
and  Scotch.  If  we  can  find  a  cause  sufficiently  strong 
common  to  all  three  nations,  and  not  operating,  or 
not  operating  with  anything  like  the  same  power, 
among  the  other  European  peoples,  we  shall  prob- 
ably be  right  in  assigning  that  as  the  true  cause. 
This  is  an  historical  enquiry  which  cannot  be  more 
than  summarised  here. 


INTRODUCTION.  xv 

A  reason  which  would  occur  to  most  readers  is 
the  spread  of  education,  Scotland,  since  the  days  of 
John  Knox,  has  been  covered  with  a  noble  network 
of  schools,  wherein  Scottish  boys  at  all  events  have  got 
the  rudiments  of  literary  learning.  In  England,  not- 
withstanding many  valuable  foundations,  education, 
even  of  an  elementary  kind,  has  been  greatly  restricted 
until  the  last  few  years.  Yet  throughout  the  country 
such  knowledge  as  existed  among  the  unlettered 
classes  has  been  effectual  to  the  destruction  of  most 
of  the  native  mdrchen  in  a  somewhat  curious  manner. 
Perrault's  tales,  which  achieved  in  France  a  popularity 
so  sudden  and  complete  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  were  translated  into  English,  and  speedily 
appeared  in  the  form  of  chap-books  with  gaudy 
covers  and  coarse  woodcuts.  These  were  dissem- 
inated far  and  wide ;  and  Cinderella,  Bluebeard,  and 
the  rest  we  know  so  well,  like  the  young  cuckoo  in  a 
sparrow's  nest,  seem  to  have  ousted  the  proper  brood. 
But  in  Wales  the  difference  of  tongue  would  have 
prevented  the  irruption  of  these  foreign  stories. 
Schools  were  not  absolutely  non-existent,  but  they 
were  very  few  and  poor ;  and  we  cannot  lay  to  their 
charge  the  loss  of  nursery  tales.  It  must  be  due, 
therefore,  to  some  other  cause,  much  wider,  much 
more  powerful.  I  find  such  a  cause  in  the  Evangeli- 
cal Protestantism  which  has  so  largely  prevailed, 
not  only  in  the  Principality,  but  also  in  Scotland  and 


xvi  INTRODUCTION. 

England.  Sternly  monotheistic,  its  heroes,  and  they 
have  been  many,  have  never  been  exalted  into  demi- 
gods, like  the  saints  of  the  mediaeval  Church.  Severer 
in  its  repression  of  much  of  the  gaiety  of  life  than 
any  other  religion  influential  in  Europe,  it  has 
frowned  upon  all  imagination  except  that  of  a  strictly 
theological  cast ;  and  it  has  substituted  for  the  idle 
tales  of  tradition  the  more  edifying  and  veracious 
histories  of  Noah,  Jacob,  and  Samson.  This  is  a 
process  which  has  been  going  on  in  England  and 
Scotland  since  the  Reformation.  In  the  latter 
kingdom  it  was  perhaps  weakened  by  the  cessation 
of  active  religious  propagandism  down  to  the  early 
years  of  the  present  century,  owing  to  the  almost 
entire  absence  of  Nonconformity.  In  England,  where 
Nonconformity  has  always  existed,  the  process  has 
been  continuously  more  or  less  active,  and  doubtless 
under  its  influence  the  obliteration  of  mdrchen  from 
the  popular  memory  had  already  begun  before  the 
introduction  of  the  translations  from  Perrault's  work. 
Since  the  Act  of  Uniformity,  Wales,  too,  has  never 
been  without  Nonconformists;  but,  especially  in 
North  Wales,  their  numbers  were  insignificant  until 
the  rise  of  Methodism  under  the  preaching  of  Howel 
Harries  and  his  coadjutors.  At  that  time  a  religious 
revival  similar  to,  but  proportionately  much  greater 
than,  that  which  was  taking  place  in  England 
shook  the  Principality  from  end  to  end.     It  had  an 


INTRODUCTION.  rrA 

immediate  and  important  effect  on  the  manners  of  all 
but  the  highest  classes.  Nor  was  it  only  the  manners 
which  were  affected.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say 
that  the  whole  current  of  a  nation's  thoughts  was 
changed.  Sermons  were  substituted  for  football,  and 
religious  meetings  for  drunken  bouta  Those  who 
could  read  read  the  Bible  to  their  neighbours ; 
spiritual  concerns  drew  men  together  and  formed  the 
staple  subject  of  their  talk.  Nor  was  this  a  passing 
phasa  The  clergy,  a  great  number  of  whom,  intruded 
into  their  cures  from  England,  were  utterly  ignorant 
of  the  language,  cared  not  for  the  salvation  of  souls. 
Their  duties  were  performed  in  the  most  perfunctory 
manner  ;  and  they  gladly  escaped  from  the  pulpit  to 
*^'the  alehouse,  from  sacred  rite  to  rustic  sport  Harries, 
Williams,  and  Rowlands,  the  fathers  of  the  Welsh 
Methodist  revival,  were  men  of  another  type.  Sab- 
bath-breaking, drunkenness,  and  swearing  they  could 
not  away  with ;  and  dancing  and  the  village  games 
seemed  scarcely  less  evil  to  them,  in  the  face  of  the 
awful  realities  of  life  and  death.  They  could  not 
afford  to  let  their  converts  slip  back  into  these 
sinful  practices ;  and  they  accordingly  formed  them 
everywhere  into  societies  whose  moral  code,  as  well 
as  their  orthodoxy,  was  of  the  narrowest  and 
most  rigid  description.  Their  teaching  and  example 
quickened  the  faltering  faith  of  kindred  religious 
bodies,  and  assured  the  overwhelming  predominance 


xviii  INTRODUCTION. 

of  Protestant  Nonconformity.  In  England,  Whit- 
field, Wesley,  and  the  other  leaders  of  the  evangelical 
movement  were  actuated  by  the  same  lofty  motives 
and  pursued  the  same  policy,  though  with  more 
partial  success.  The  general  result  was  beyond 
all  question  beneficial.  Apart  from  the  effect  for 
which  these  earnest  men  looked  and  prayed — namely, 
the  salvation  of  souls — civilisation  made  a  great 
stride.  Open  immorality  was  suppressed ;  brutalising 
sports,  such  as  cock-fighting,  and  other  sorts  of 
ruffianism,  were  discountenanced.  Men  began  to 
have  ideals  of  which  not  physical,  but  moral  and 
spiritual,  force  was  the  distinctive  mark. 

In  such  a  movement  it  was  inevitable  that  many 
of  the  old  popular  traditions  should  be  crushed. 
The  heart  of  the  movement  was  the  Bible ;  and  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  early  Christians  against  classic 
heathenism  seemed  to  be  revived  and  directed  against 
everything  which  did  not  savour  of  the  Bible  and 
things  divine.  The  ignoranct  which  had  hitherto 
enwrapped  the  peasantry  began  to  be  lifted  ;  but  the 
light  that  fell  upon  them  was  only  that  of  theological 
speculation  and  Scripture  narrative.  A  careful  quest 
among  the  writings  of  the  Fathers  of  Methodism — 
perhaps  of  other  Dissenters — would  probably  reveal 
condemnation  repeatedly  directed  against  lewd  songs 
and  "  old  wives'  fables,"  The  tendency  at  any  rate 
of  their  teaching  is  unmistakable.     But  we  must  not 


INTRODUCTION.  jdx 

forget  that  they  themselves  were  extremely  cre- 
dulous. John  Wesley's  diary  teems  with  ghost 
stories,  stories  of  miraculous  interpositions  of  Pro- 
vidence, and  so  forth,  in  all  of  which  he  placed  the 
most  implicit  faith.  His  fellow-workers,  both  in 
England  and  Wales,  were  to  the  full  as  trustful. 
Hence  they  would  readily  accept  soma  sorts  of  folk- 
tales. Nay,  the  imagination  would  be  quickened 
in  certain  directions  under  the  influence  of  powerful 
religious  emotion  ;  and  sagas  of  corpse-candles  and 
of  evil  spirits,  whether  ghost  or  devil,  would  become 
doubly  dreadful.  But  stories  untouched  by  the 
prevailing  impulse,  or  which  afforded  no  arguments 
in  favour  of  a  preacher's  doctrine,  would  naturally 
recede  from  view  and  be  lost ;  while  if  any  were 
condemned  as  idle  or  sinful  they  would  cease  to  be 
repeated  by  those  who  attached  any  importance  to 
the  condemnation.  Now,  nursery  tales  are  treasured 
chiefly  by  women,  for  to  their  lot  it  usually  falls  to 
narrate  them  to  their  little  charges.  But  women  are 
peculiarly  susceptible  to  religious  feelings;  and  if  such 
stories  were  obnoxious  to  those  whom  they  were 
accustomed  to  reverence  as  spiritual  guides,  there  can 
be  little  doubt  what  the  result  would  be. 

The  influence  of  such  teaching  would  last  as  long 
as  the  religious  belief  which  called  it  forth  retained 
any  hold  upon  the  popular  mind  ;  and  its  prohibitions 
would  be  extended  to  every  sort  of  fiction,  though 


XX  INTRODUCTION. 

they  might  be  modified  in  course  of  time.  Within 
my  own  knowledge,  however,  and  doubtless  within 
the  recollection  of  many  of  my  readers,  in  England 
the  narration  of  nursery  tales  to  children  has  been 
discouraged,  and,  in  some  cases,  forbidden,  for  reasons 
in  no  wise  diflfering  from  those  I  have  indicated. 
This  is  a  subject  on  which  no  statistics  can  be  made 
available ;  but  I  suspect  that  these  objections  to 
mdrchen  have  been  very  widespread.  And  they  have 
been  unquestionably  reinforced  by  the  discoveries  of 
the  past  century  in  physical  science  and  by  the 
popularisation  of  knowledge.  For  many  years  the 
voice  of  well-meaning  persons  has  been  heard  in  the 
land  exhorting  mothers  to  feed  their  babes  on  the 
milk  of  science  and  the  bread  of  fact,  and  not  to  fill 
young  minds  with  fairy  tales  which  are  not  true  and 
can  do  no  good  to  them.  It  is  a  matter  of  thankful- 
ness that  these  tedious  beings  are  no  longer  listened 
to  as  they  were  a  generation  ago,  and  that  they 
scarcely  penetrated  into  Wales  or  into  the  remote 
country  districts  of  England  and  Scotland.  Children 
there  were  always  bred  up  on  stories  from  the  Bible 
and  sagas  of  elves  and  goblins,  ghosts  and  corpse- 
candles.  Facts  such  as  these  (and  they  were  all 
looked  upon  as  equally  authentic)  cultivated  the 
imagination,  and  thus  preserved  for  us  many  precious 
fragments  of  old-world  thought. 

To  the   foregoing   reasons   must   be   attributed,  I 


INTROD  UCTION,  xxi 

think,  the  large  preponderance  of  sagas  among  the 
folktales  of  this  country.  A  collection  like  the 
present,  though  it  aims  to  be  representative,  may 
perhaps  be  found  to  contain  a  proportion  of  sagas 
great  even  beyond  the  proportion  of  such  tales  actu- 
ally extant  For  not  only  does  its  plan  exclude  the 
familiar  adaptations  of  nursery  tales  from  Perrault 
and  other  French  collections,  but  sagas  are  in  them- 
selves of  greater  interest  than  any  other  class  of 
folktales  except  mdrchen,  and  are  therefore  more 
frequently  the  subjects  of  literary  reproduction. 
Probably,  however,  none  but  scientific  students  will 
be  concerned  with  the  disproportion  here  hinted  at; 
and,  after  all,  it  may  be  replied  that  this  volume  is 
not  intended — mainly,  at  all  events — for  them.  It 
is  addressed  rather  to  readers  whose  interest  has  yet 
to  be  enlisted  in  the  fairy  tales  of  science — of  that 
science  which  is  the  Science  of  Fairy  Tales.  For  such 
readers  a  few  of  the  traditions  of  their  fatherland  may 
perhaps  be  found  a  not  inappropriate  introduction. 

That  which  is  chiefly  interesting  in  all  these  stories 
is  the  question  of  their  real  origin  and  meaning.  There 
are  some  readers  who,  though  not  scientific  students, 
cannot  be  satisfied  without  some  sort  of  an  explana- 
tion, some  "  philosophy,"  as  they  are  pleased  to  term 
it,  of  the  stories.  To  such  I  might  recommend  the 
plan  adopted  by  several  of  the  philosophers  of 
antiquity,   and   weighted   amongst   moderns   by   the 


xxii  INTRODUCTION. 

authority  of  the  great  writer  of  The  Instauration  of 
the  Sciences.  It  is  also  the  plan  of  the  monkish 
compilers  of  the  Gesta  Romanorum,  who  fitted  their 
stories  with  long-winded  "applications,"  as  if  they 
were  expositions  of  moral  and  theological  truth, 
veiled  by  parable.  The  advantage  of  this  mode  of 
exposition  is  that  you  are  not  at  all  concerned  with 
what  the  people  who  first  told  the  story  meant,  or 
how  they  came  to  tell  it  All  that  need  be  done  is 
to  consider  how  you  can  exhibit  your  own  ingenuity 
by  reading  into  the  tale  any  meaning — preferably 
an  ethical  one — that  may  happen  to  suit  your  taste. 
Those  who  have  the  privilege  of  listening  to  the 
sermons  of  some  theologians  know  the  process. 

Theorists  like  Professor  Max  Miiller  and  his  dis- 
ciples cannot  be  put  on  even  terms  with  clever  people 
of  this  kind,  because  they  profess  to  tell  just  what  the 
others  do  not  trouble  about — namely,  the  origin  and 
true  meaning  of  these  tales.  It  does,  however,  seem 
a  pity  they  should  hamper  themselves  by  assuming 
such  a  regard  for  facts.  For  in  truth  they  have  a 
fine  imagination,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  find 
in  recent  English  literature  more  picturesque,  more 
glowing  passages  than  ajre  to  be  met  with  in  descrip- 
tions of  the  sun-hero  or  the  dawn-maiden  and  their 
various  adventures,  as  seen  through  the  spectacles 
of  the  Aryan  philologists. 

He  must  be  hard  to  please  who   cannot  content 


INTRODUCTION.  xxiii 

himself  with  one  or  other  of  these  modes  of  interpre- 
tation :  he  can  deserve  nothing  better  than  to  be 
condemned  to  seek  truth  by  the  hard  and  pitiless 
process  of  scientific  investigation.  That  is  what 
real  students  of  folk-lore  are  doing.  Discarding 
ethical  and  literary  prejudices,  they  strive  first  of  all 
to  track  custom,  superstition,  tale,  or  song  back  to  its 
earliest  form  and  to  discover  its  analogues  wherever 
they  can  find  them.  Next,  they  inquire  what  inter- 
pretation, if  any,  do  the  people  among  whom  the 
custom,  the  superstition,  the  tale,  or  the  song  is  rife 
put  on  it ;  what  is  their  habit  of  thought,  degree  of 
civilisation,  previous  history ;  and  what  can  we  learn 
by  comparing  the  customs,  superstitions,  etc.,  of 
nations  in  a  similar  condition.  In  these  inquiries 
special  stress  is  laid  on  the  principle  that  Tradition  is 
one  and  indivisible.  Custom  cannot  be  studied  apart 
from  superstition,  nor  superstition  from  tale  or  song. 
All  are  inseparably  connected,  for  all  go  to  form  one 
whole,  which  is  the  general  body  of  culture  possessed 
by  a  nation,  or,  as  it  may  happen,  by  a  given  class 
within  a  nation.  No  doubt  this  is  very  laborious, 
very  dry  perchance,  when  contrasted  with  the  methods 
expounded  in  The  Wisdom,  of  tJie  Ancients  and  The 
Mythology  of  the  Aryan  Nations.  But  how  fruitful 
of  results  has  it  been !  In  the  hands  of  men  like 
Tylor,  Maclennan,  Lang,  and  Gomme,  it  has  taught 
us  more  about  the  real  thoughts  and  practices,  not 


xxiv  INTRODUCTION. 

merely  of  savage  tribes,  but  of  our  own  forefathers, 
than  we  ever  knew  before.  We  are  learning  gradually 
what  kind  of  men  our  forefathers  were,  how  they 
really  looked  at  the  world,  what  was  their  social 
and  economic  organisation,  what  were  their  religious 
beliefs,  and  in  what  manner  all  these  have  been 
gradually  modified  and  developed,  or  else  have 
dwindled  and  decayed,  down  to  the  present 
time.  The  fairy  tales  now  presented  to  the  reader 
are  survivals  from  a  period  when  the  supernatural 
beings  therein  depicted,  and  the  wonderful  powers 
wielded  either  by  them  or  by  mortals,  were  a  vital 
part  of  the  belief,  and  exercised  daily  and  hourly 
influence  on  the  sayings  and  doings,  of  everybody — 
even  as  similar  creeds  do  on  the  barbarous  tribes  in 
every  quarter  of  the  globe  to-day.  They  were  part 
and  parcel  of  a  social  and  intellectual  condition  which 
has  passed,  or  is  rapidly  passing,  away  everywhere. 
But  behind  this  social  and  intellectual  condition  our 
inquiries  are  leading  us  to  the  psychological  problems 
involved.  Why  did  men  believe  in  witchcraft  and 
totems,  fairies  and  giants,  gods  and  devils?  Why 
did  they  practise  animal,  and  even  human  sacrifice, 
the  couvade,  infant  baptism,  initiatory  rites  on  attain- 
ing manhood  ?  What  is  the  meaning  of  their  funeral 
ceremonies?  of  their  marriage  laws?  of  the  extra- 
ordinary variety  of  regulations  affecting  social  inter- 
course?    What  mode  of  reasoning  drew  them   to 


INTRODUCTION.  xxv 

these  and  a  thousand  other  beliefs  and  practices? 
and  why  were  they  led  to  these  rather  than  to  quite 
different  ones  ? 

Here  I  can  do  no  more  than  indicate  in  this  feeble 
and  general  way  the  vastness  and  fruitfulness  of  the 
field  laid  open  by  the  scientific  method  of  investiga- 
tion of  the  phenomena  of  Tradition.  To  attempt  an 
answer  to  these  questions  is  not  my  present  task.  If 
I  have  succeeded  in  awakening  the  reader's  interest 
in  the  subject,  the  writings  of  the  distinguished  men 
just  referred  to,  and  of  other  anthropologists,  and  the 
works  issued  by  the  Folk-lore  Society,  will  not  fail  to 
reward  him  with  that  true  pleasure  which  the  really 
earnest  and  scientific  study  of  any  subject  always 
gives.  And  that  is,  above  all,  the  pleasure  that  he 
who  has  once  tasted  it  must  wish  for  every  one 
whom  he  desires  to  benefit. 

I  have  to  acknowledge  with  many  thanks  the  kind 
permission  given  me  by  the  Council  of  the  Folk-lore 
Society  to  include  several  stories  from  volumes  of 
their  publications,  and  the  very  ready  courtesy  of 
Messrs.  Chatto  &  Windus,  to  whom  I  am  indebted 
for  liberty  to  make  numerous  extracts  from  the  late 
Mr.  R.  Hunt's  Popular  Romances  of  the  West  of 
England.  That  book  is  by  far  the  fullest  collection 
of  English  traditions  ;  and  although  the  author 
thought  it  necessary  to  give  a  literary  clothing  to  his 
tales,  they  may  nevertheless  be  regarded  as  in  their 


xxvi  INTR  on  UCTION, 

main  lines  genuine.  The  Popular  Romances  has 
indeed  long  been  recognised  as  invaluable  to  the 
student,  and  full  of  interest  and  amusement  to  all. 
It  would  also  be  unpardonable  if  I  failed  to  mention 
the  generous  interest  taken  in  this  volume  by- 
Miss  Burne,  the  enthusiastic  author  of  Shropshire 
Folk-lore^  and  queen  of  English  folk-lore  collectors. 
To  her  I  owe  several  valuable  suggestions,  as  well 
as  some  of  the  best  stories.  I  have  also  to  thank 
Messrs.  Geo.  Bell  &  Sons  for  their  hearty  response 
to  my  application  to  be  allowed  to  make  such  large 
use  of  Keightlcy's  Fairy  Mythology;  Mr.  Merton  C. 
Thoms  and  the  Right  Hon.  Sir  Chas.  W.  Dilke, 
Bart,  for  permission  to  insert  stories  from  Choice 
Notes;  and  Mr.  Joseph  Cowen  for  a  similar  permission 
in  regard  to  the  Monthly  Chronicle  of  North-Country 
Lore  and  Legend.  No  greater  service  could  be 
rendered  to  students  than  to  compile  a  continuation 
of  Choice  Notes  from  the  folk-lore  lying  scattered 
about  the  pages  of  the  second  and  subsequent  series 
of  Notes  and  Queries.  Can  not  some  one  be  found 
with  sufficient  energy  and  love  for  the  science  to 
doit? 

Barnwood  Court,  Gloucester. 


ENGLISH  FAIRY  AND  OTHER 
FOLK  TALES. 


NURSERY  TALES, 


jenalisb  jfolFi  anb  fair^  tlalee. 


NURSERY   TALES. 


JACK  THE  GIANT-KILLER.1 

In  the  reign  of  King  Arthur,  there  Uved  in  the  county 
of  Cornwall,  near  the  Land's  End  of  England,  a 
wealthy  farmer  who  had  one  only  son  called  Jack.  He 
was  brisk  and  of  a  ready  lively  wit,  so  that  whatever  he 
could  not  perform  by  force  and  strength  he  completed 
by  ingenious  wit  and  policy.  Never  was  any  person  heard 
of  that  could  worst  him,  and  he  very  often  even  baffled  the 
learned  by  his  sharp  and  ready  invention. 

In  those  days  the  Mount  of  Cornwall  was  kept  by  a  huge 
and  monstrous  giant  of  eighteen  feet  in  height,  and  about 
three  yards  in  compass,  of  a  fierce  and  grim  countenance, 
the  terror  of  all  the  neighbouring  towns  and  villages. 
He  lived  in  a  cave  in  the  midst  of  the  Mount,  and 
would  not  suffer  any  one  else  to  live  near  him.  His 
food  was  other  men's  cattle,  which  often  became 
his  prey,  for  whensoever  he  wanted  food  he  would  wade 

^  Collated  from  sundry  Chap-books.    (Newcastle-on-Tyne,  1711-183$.) 


4  ENGLISH  FOLK 

over  to  the  main-land,  where  he  would  furnish  himself 
with  whatever  came  in  his  way.  The  good  folk,  at  his 
approach,  forsook  their  habitations,  while  he  seized  on  their 
cattle,  making  nothing  of  carrying  half-a-dozen  oxen  on  his 
back  at  a  time ;  and  as  for  their  sheep  and  hogs,  he  would 
tie  them  round  his  waist  like  a  bunch  of  bandeleirs.  This 
course  he  had  followed  for  many  years,  so  that  all  Cornwall 
was  impoverished  by  his  depredations. 

One  day  Jack,  happening  to  be  present  at  the  town  hall 
when  the  magistrates  were  sitting  in  council  about  the 
giant,  asked  what  reward  would  be  given  to  the  person 
who  destroyed  him.  The  giant's  treasure,  they  said,  was  the 
recompense.     Quoth  Jack,  "  Then  let  me  undertake  it" 

So  he  furnished  himself  with  a  horn,  shovel,  and 
pickaxe,  and  went  over  to  the  Mount  in  the  beginning 
of  a  dark  winter's  evening,  when  he  fell  to  work,  and 
before  morning  had  dug  a  pit  twenty-two  feet  deep,  and 
nearly  as  broad,  covering  it  over  with  long  sticks  and  straw. 
Then  strewing  a  little  mould  upon  it,  it  appeared  like  plain 
ground.  This  completed.  Jack  placed  himself  on  the  con- 
trary side  of  the  pit,  fartherest  from  the  giant's  lodging,  and, 
just  at  the  break  of  day,  he  put  the  horn  to  his  mouth,  and 
blew,  Tantivy,  Tantivy.  This  unexpected  noise  aroused 
the  giant,  who  rushed  from  his  cave,  crying :  "  You  incor- 
rigible villain,  are  you  come  here  to  disturb  my  rest  ?  You 
shall  pay  dearly  for  this.  Satisfaction  I  will  have,  and  this 
it  shall  be,  I  will  take  you  whole  and  broil  you  for  break- 
fast," which  he  had  no  sooner  uttered,  than  tumbling  into 
the  pit,  he  made  the  very  foundations  of  the  Mount  to 
shake.  "  Oh,  giant,"  quoth  Jack,  "  where  are  you  now  ? 
Oh  faith,  you  are  gotten  now  into  Lob's  Pound,  where  I 
will  surely  plague  you  for  your  threatening  words :  what  do 
you  think  now  of  broiling  me  for  your  breakfast?     Will 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  5 

no  other  diet  serve  you  but  poor  Jack?"  Thus  having 
tantalised  the  giant  for  a  while,  he  gave  him  a  most  weighty 
knock  with  his  pickaxe  on  the  very  crown  of  his  head,  and 
killed  him  on  the  spot. 

This  done,  Jack  filled  up  the  pit  with  earth,  and  went  to 
search  the  cave,  which  he  found  contained  much  treasure. 
When  the  magistrates  heard  of  this,  they  made  a  declaration 
he  should  henceforth  be  termed  Jack  the  Giant-Killer,  and 
presented  him  with  a  sword  and  an  embroidered  belt,  on 
which  were  written  these  words  in  letters  of  gold — 

"  Here's  the  right  valiant  Cornish  man, 
Who  slew  the  giant  Cormelian." 

The  news  of  Jack's  victory  soon  spread  over  all  the  West 
of  England,  so  that  another  giant,  named  Blunderbore, 
hearing  of  it,  vowed  to  be  revenged  on  the  little  hero,  if 
ever  it  was  his  fortune  to  light  on  him.  This  giant  was  the 
lord  of  an  enchanted  castle  situated  in  the  midst  of  a  lone- 
some wood.  Now  Jack,  about  four  months  afterwards, 
walking  near  this  wood  in  his  journey  to  Wales,  being 
weary,  seated  himself  near  a  pleasant  fountain  and  fell  fast 
asleep.  While  he  was  enjoying  his  repose,  the  giant,  coming 
for  water,  there  discovered  him,  and  knew  him  to  be  the 
far-famed  Jack,  by  the  lines  written  on  the  belt  Without 
ado,  he  took  Jack  on  his  shoulders  and  carried  him  towards 
his  enchanted  castle.  Now,  as  they  passed  through  a  thicket, 
the  rustling  of  the  boughs  awakened  Jack,  who  was  strangely 
surprised  to  find  himself  in  the  clutches  of  the  giant.  His 
terror  was  not  yet  begun,  for  on  entering  the  castle,  he  saw 
the  ground  strewed  with  human  bones,  the  giant  telling 
him  his  own  would  ere  long  increase  them.  After  this  the 
giant  locked  poor  Jack  in  an  immense  chamber,  leaving 
him  there  while  he  went  to  fetch  another  giant  living  in  the 

3 


6  ENGLISH  FOLK 

same  wood  to  share  in  Jack's  destruction.  While  he  was 
gone,  dreadful  shrieks  and  lamentations  affrighted  Jack, 
especially  a  voice  which  continually  cried — 

"  Do  what  you  can  to  get  away, 

Or  you'll  become  the  giant's  prey  ; 
He's  gone  to  fetch  his  brother,  who 
Will  kill,  likewise  devour  you  too." 

This  dreadful  noise  had  almost  distracted  Jack,  who, 
going  to  the  window,  beheld  afar  off  the  two  giants  coming 
towards  the  castle.  "Now,"  quoth  Jack  to  himself,  "my 
death  or  my  deliverance  is  at  hand."  Now,  there  were  strong 
cords  in  a  corner  of  the  room  in  which  Jack  was,  and  two 
of  these  he  took,  and  made  a  strong  noose  at  the  end  ; 
and  while  the  giants  were  unlocking  the  iron  gate  of  the 
castle  he  threw  the  ropes  over  each  of  their  heads.  Then 
drawing  the  other  ends  across  a  beam,  and  pulling  with  all 
his  might,  he  throttled  them.  Then,  seeing  they  were  black 
in  the  face,  and  sliding  down  the  rope,  he  came  to  their 
heads,  when  they  could  not  defend  themselves,  and  drawing 
his  sword,  slew  them  both.  Then,  taking  the  giant's  keys, 
and  unlocking  the  rooms,  he  found  three  fair  ladies  tied  by 
the  hair  of  their  heads,  almost  starved  to  death.  "  Sweet 
ladies,"  quoth  Jack,  **  I  have  destroyed  this  monster  and  his 
brutish  brother,  and  obtained  your  liberties."  This  said,  he 
presented  them  with  the  keys,  and  so  proceeded  on  his 
journey  to  Wales.  Having  but  little  money,  Jack  found  it 
well  to  make  the  best  of  his  way  by  travelling  as  fast 
as  he  could,  but  losing  his  road,  he  was  benighted,  and 
could  not  get  a  place  of  entertainment  until,  coming  into  a 
narrow  valley,  he  found  a  large  house,  and  by  reason  of  his 
present  needs  took  courage  to  knock  at  the  gate.  But  what 
was  his  surprise  when  there  came  forth  a  monstrous  giant 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  7 

with  two  heads ;  yet  he  did  not  appear  so  fiery  as  the  others 
were,  for  he  was  a  Welsh  giant,  and  what  he  did  was  by 
private  and  secret  malice  under  the  false  show  of  friend- 
ship. Jack,  having  told  his  condition  to  the  giant,  was 
shown  into  a  bedroom,  where,  in  the  dead  of  night,  he 
heard  his  host  in  another  apartment  muttering  these 
words — 

"  Though  here  you  lodge  with  me  this  night, 
You  shall  not  see  the  morning  light : 
My  club  shall  dash  your  brains  outright  I" 

"Sa/st  thou  so,"  quoth  Jack;  "that  is  like  one  of  your 
Welsh  tricks,  yet  I  hope  to  be  cunning  enough  for  you." 
Then,  getting  out  of  bed,  he  laid  a  billet  in  the  bed  in  his 
stead,  and  hid  himself  in  a  corner  of  the  room.  At  the 
dead  time  of  the  night  in  came  the  Welsh  giant,  who 
struck  several  heavy  blows  on  the  bed  with  his  club,  think- 
ing he  had  broken  every  bone  in  Jack's  skin.  The  next 
morning  Jack,  laughing  in  his  sleeve,  gave  him  hearty 
thanks  for  his  night's  lodging.  "  How  have  you  rested?" 
quoth  the  giant ;  "  did  you  not  feel  anything  in  the  night  ?  " 
"  No,"  quoth  Jack,  "  nothing  but  a  rat,  which  gave  me  two 
or  three  slaps  with  her  tail"  With  that,  greatly  wondering, 
the  giant  led  Jack  to  breakfast,  bringing  him  a  bowl  con- 
taining four  gallons  of  hasty  pudding.  Being  loath  to  let 
the  giant  think  it  too  much  for  him,  Jack  put  a  large  leather 
bag  under  his  loose  coat,  in  such  a  way  that  he  could 
convey  the  pudding  into  it  without  its  being  perceived. 
Then,  telling  the  giant  he  would  show  him  a  trick,  taking  a 
knife.  Jack  ripped  open  the  bag,  and  out  came  all  the  hasty 
pudding.  Whereupon,  saying,  "Odds  splutters,  hur  can 
do  that  trick  hurself,"  the  monster  took  the  knife,  and 
ripping  open  his  belly,  fell  down  dead. 


8  ENGLISH  FOLK 

Now,  it  fell  in  these  days  that  King  Arthur's  only  son 
requested  his  father  to  furnish  him  with  a  large  sum  of 
money,  in  order  that  he  might  go  and  seek  his  fortune  in 
the  principality  of  Wales,  where  lived  a  beautiful  lady 
possessed  with  seven  evil  spirits.  The  king  did  his  best 
to  persuade  his  son  from  it,  but  in  vain;  so  at  last 
granted  the  request,  and  the  prince  set  out  with  two  horses, 
one  loaded  with  money,  the  other  for  himself  to  ride  upon. 
Now,  after  several  days'  travel,  he  came  to  a  market-town 
in  Wales,  where  he  beheld  a  vast  concourse  of  people 
gathered  together.  The  prince  demanded  the  reason  of  it, 
and  was  told  that  they  had  arrested  a  corpse  for  several 
large  sums  of  money  which  the  deceased  owed  when  he 
died.  The  prince  replied  that  it  was  a  pity  creditors  should 
be  so  cruel,  and  said,  "  Go  bury  the  dead,  and  let  his 
creditors  come  to  my  lodging,  and  there  their  debts  shall 
be  discharged."  They  accordingly  came,  but  in  such  great 
numbers  that  before  night  he  had  almost  left  himself 
moneyless. 

Now  Jack  the  Giant-Killer,  coming  that  way,  was  so 
taken  with  the  generosity  of  the  prince,  that  he  desired  to 
be  his  servant  This  being  agreed  upon,  the  next  morning 
they  set  forward  on  their  journey  together,  when,  as  they 
were  riding  out  of  the  town,  an  old  woman  called  after  the 
prince,  saying,  "He  has  owed  me  twopence  these  seven 
years;  pray  pay  me  as  well  as  the  rest."  Putting  his 
hand  to  his  pocket,  the  prince  gave  the  woman  all  he  had 
left,  so  that  after  their  day's  refreshment,  which  cost  what 
small  spell  Jack  had  by  him,  they  were  without  a  penny 
between  them.  When  the  sun  began  to  grow  low,  the 
king's  son  said,  "Jack,  since  we  have  no  money,  where 
can  we  lodge  this  night?"  But  Jack  replied,  "Master, 
we'll  do  well  enough,  for  I  have  an  uncle  lives  within 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  9 

two  miles  of  this  place ;  he  is  a  huge  and  monstrous  giant 
with  lliree  heads ;  he'll  fight  five  hundred  men  in  armour, 
and  make  them  to  fly  before  him."  "Alas!"  quoth  the 
prince,  "what  shall  we  do  there?  He'll  certainly  chop  us 
up  at  a  mouthful.  Nay,  we  are  scarce  enough  to  fill  one  of 
his  hollow  teeth ! "  "  It  is  no  matter  for  that,"  quoth  Jack ; 
"I  myself  will  go  before  and  prepare  the  way  for  you; 
therefore  tarry  and  wait  till  I  return."  Jack  then  rode 
away  full  speed,  and  coming  to  the  gate  of  the  castle,  he 
knocked  so  loud  that  he  made  the  neighbouring  hills 
resound.  The  giant  roared  out  at  this  Uke  thunder, 
"Who's  there?"  He  was  answered,  "  None  but  your  poor 
Cousin  JacL"  Quoth  he,  "What  news  with  my  poor 
Cousin  Jack?"  He  replied,  "Dear  uncle,  heavy  news, 
God  wot ! "  "  Prithee,"  quoth  the  giant,  "  what  heavy  news 
can  come  to  me?  I  am  a  giant  with  three  heads,  and 
besides  thou  knowest  I  can  fight  five  hundred  men  in 
armour,  and  make  them  fly  like  chaff  before  the  wind." 
"Oh,  but,"  quoth  Jack,  "here's  the  king's  son  a-coming 
with  a  thousand  men  in  armour  to  kill  you  and  destroy  all 
that  you  have  1 "  "  Oh,  Cousin  Jack,"  said  the  giant,  "  this 
is  heavy  news  indeed!  I  will  immediately  run  and  hide 
myself,  and  thou  shalt  lock,  bolt,  and  bar  me  in,  and 
keep  the  keys  until  the  prince  is  gone."  Having  secured 
the  giant,  Jack  fetched  his  master,  when  they  made  them- 
selves heartily  merry  whilst  the  poor  giant  laid  trembling 
in  a  vault  under  the  ground. 

Early  in  the  morning  Jack  furnished  his  master  with  a 
fresh  supply  of  gold  and  silver,  and  then  sent  him  three 
miles  forward  on  his  journey,  at  which  time  the  prince 
was  pretty  well  out  of  the  smell  of  the  giant  Jack 
then  returned,  and  let  the  giant  out  of  the  vault,  who 
asked  what  he  should  give   him   for  keeping  the  castle 


lo  ENGLISH  FOLK 

from  destruction.  "  Why,"  quoth  Jack,  "  I  desire 
nothing  but  the  old  coat  and  cap,  together  wiih  the 
old  rusty  sword  and  slippers  which  are  at  your  bed's 
head."  Quoth  the  giant,  "Thou  shalt  have  them;  and 
pray  keep  them  for  my  sake,  for  they  are  things  of 
excellent  use.  The  coat  will  keep  you  invisible,  the  cap 
will  furnish  you  with  knowledge,  the  sword  cuts  asunder 
whatever  you  strike,  and  the  shoes  are  of  extraordinary 
swiftness.  These  may  be  serviceable  to  you,  therefore  take 
them  with  all  my  heart."  Taking  them.  Jack  thanked  his 
uncle,  and  then  having  overtaken  his  master,  they  quickly 
arrived  at  the  house  of  the  lady  the  prince  sought,  who, 
finding  the  prince  to  be  a  suitor,  prepared  a  splendid 
banquet  for  him.  After  the  repast  was  concluded,  she 
wiped  his  mouth  with  a  handkerchief,  saying,  "  You  must 
show  me  that  handkerchief  to-morrow  morning,  or  else  you 
will  lose  your  head."  With  that  she  put  it  in  her  bosom. 
The  prince  went  to  bed  in  great  sorrow,  but  Jack's  cap  of 
knowledge  instructed  him  how  it  was  to  be  obtained.  In 
the  middle  of  the  night  she  called  upon  her  familiar  spirit 
to  carry  her  to  Lucifer.  But  Jack  put  on  his  coat  of  dark- 
ness and  his  shoes  of  swiftness,  and  was  there  as  soon  as 
her.  When  she  entered  the  place  of  the  evil  one,  she  gave 
the  handkerchief  to  old  Lucifer,  who  laid  it  upon  a  shelf, 
whence  Jack  took  it  and  brought  it  to  his  master,  who 
showed  it  to  the  lady  the  next  day,  and  so  saved  his  life. 
On  that  day,  she  saluted  the  prince,  telling  him  he  must 
show  her  the  lips  to-morrow  morning  that  she  kissed  last 
night,  or  lose  his  head.  "  Ah,"  he  replied,  "  if  you  kiss  none 
but  mine,  I  will."  "  That  is  neither  here  nor  there,"  said 
she ;  "  if  you  do  not,  death's  your  portion !  "  At  midnight 
she  went  as  before,  and  was  angry  with  old  Lucifer  for 
letting  the  handkerchief  go.      "  But  now,"  quoth  she,  •*  I 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  ii 

will  be  too  hard  for  the  king's  son,  for  I  will  kiss  thee,  and 
he  is  to  show  me  thy  lips."  Which  she  did,  and  Jack,  who 
was  standing  by,  cut  off  the  devil's  head  and  brought  it 
under  his  invisible  coat  to  his  master,  who  the  next  morn- 
ing pulled  it  out  by  the  horns  before  the  lady.  Thus  broke, 
the  enchantment  and  the  evil  spirit  left  her,  and  she 
appeared  in  all  her  beauty.  They  were  married  the  next 
morning,  and  soon  after  went  to  the  court  of  King  Arthur, 
where  Jack,  for  his  many  great  exploits,  was  made  one  of 
the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table. 

Having  been  successful  in  all  his  undertakings.  Jack 
resolved  not  to  remain  idle,  but  to  perform  what  services 
he  could  for  the  honour  of  his  king  and  country,  and 
besought  King  Arthur  to  fit  him  out  with  a  horse  and 
money  to  enable  him  to  travel  in  search  of  strange  and 
new  adventures.  "For,"  said  he,  "there  are  many  giants 
yet  living  in  the  remotest  part  of  Wales,  to  the  unspeakable 
damage  of  your  majesty's  liege  subjects  ;  wherefore,  may  it 
please  you  to  encourage  me,  I  do  not  doubt  but  in  a  short 
time  to  cut  them  oflF  root  and  branch,  and  so  rid  all  the 
realm  of  those  giants  and  monsters  of  nature."  When  the 
king  had  heard  this  noble  request,  he  furnished  Jack  with 
all  necessaries,  and  Jack  started  on  his  pursuit,  taking  with 
him  the  cap  of  knowledge,  sword  of  sharpness,  shoes  of 
swiftness,  and  invisible  coat,  the  better  to  complete  the 
dangerous  enterprises  which  now  lay  before  him. 

Jack  travelled  over  vast  hills  and  wonderful  mountains, 
and  on  the  third  day  came  to  a  large  wood,  which  he  had 
no  Sooner  entered  than  he  heard  dreadful  shrieks  and  cries. 
Casting  his  eyes  round,  he  beheld  with  terror  a  huge  giant 
dragging  along  a  fair  lady  and  a  knight  by  the  hair  of  their 
heads,  with  as  much  ease  as  if  they  had  been  a  pair  of 
gloves.     At  this  sight  Jack  shed  tears  of  pity,  and  then, 


13  ENGLISH  FOLK 

alighting  from  his  horse,  he  put  on  his  invisible  coat,  and 
taking  with  him  his  sword  of  sharpness,  at  length  with  a 
swinging  stroke  cut  off  both  the  giant's  legs  below  the 
knee,  so  that  his  fall  made  the  trees  to  tremble.  At  this 
the  courteous  knight  and  his  fair  lady,  after  returning  Jack 
their  hearty  thanks,  invited  him  home,  there  to  refresh  his 
strength  after  the  frightful  encounter,  and  receive  some 
ample  reward  for  his  good  services.  But  Jack  vowed  he 
would  not  rest  until  he  had  found  out  the  giant's  den.  The 
knight,  hearing  this,  was  very  sorrowful,  and  replied,  "  Noble 
stranger,  it  is  too  much  to  run  a  second  risk ;  this  monster 
lived  in  a  den  under  yonder  mountain,  with  a  brother  more 
fierce  and  fiery  than  himself.  Therefore,  if  you  should  go 
thither,  and  perish  in  the  attempt,  it  would  be  a  heart- 
breaking to  me  and  my  lady.  Let  me  persuade  you  to  go 
with  us,  and  desist  from  any  further  pursuit"  "  Nay," 
quoth  Jack,  '*  were  there  twenty,  not  one  should  escape  my 
fury.  But  when  I  have  finished  my  task,  I  will  come  and 
pay  my  respects  to  you." 

Jack  had  not  ridden  more  than  a  mile  and  a  hal^  when 
the  cave  mentioned  by  the  knight  appeared  to  view,  near  the 
entrance  of  which  he  beheld  the  giant  sitting  upon  a  block 
of  timber,  with  a  knotted  iron  club  by  his  side,  waiting, 
as  he  supposed,  for  his  brother's  return  with  his  barbarous 
prey.  His  goggle  eyes  were  like  flames  of  fire,  his  coun- 
tenance grim  and  ugly,  and  his  cheeks  like  a  couple  of 
large  flitches  of  bacon,  while  the  bristles  of  his  beard 
resembled  rods  of  iron  wire,  and  the  locks  that  hung  down 
upon  his  brawny  shoulders  were  like  curled  snakes  or  hissing 
adders.  Jack  alighted  from  his  horse,  and,  putting  on  the 
coat  of  darkness,  approached  near  the  giant,  and  said  softly, 
"  Oh  !  are  you  there  ?  It  will  not  be  long  ere  I  shall  take 
you  fast  by  the  beard."    The  giant  all  this  while  could  not 


AND  FAIRY  TALES,  13 

see  him,  on  account  of  his  invisible  coat,  so  that  Jack, 
coming  up  close  to  the  monster,  struck  a  blow  with  his 
sword  at  his  head,  but,  missing  his  aim,  he  cut  off  the  nose 
instead.  At  this,  the  giant  roared  like  claps  of  thunder, 
and  began  to  lay  about  him  with  his  iron  club  like  one  stark 
mad.  But  Jack,  running  behind,  drove  his  sword  up  to 
the  hilt  in  the  giant's  back,  which  caused  him  to  fall  down 
dead.  This  done.  Jack  cut  off  the' giant's  head,  and  sent  it, 
with  his  brother's  head  also,  to  King  Arthur,  by  a  waggoner 
he  hired  for  that  purpose. 

Jack  now  resolved  to  enter  the  giants*  cave  in  search  of 
his  treasure,  and,  passing  along  through  a  great  many  wind- 
ings and  turnings,  he  came  at  length  to  a  large  room  paved 
with  freestone,  at  the  upper  end  of  which  was  a  boiling 
caldron,  and  on  the  right  hand  a  large  table,  at  which  the 
giants  used  to  dine.  Then  he  came  to  a  window,  barred 
with  iron,  through  which  he  looked  and  beheld  a  vast  of 
miserable  captives,  who,  seeing  him,  cried  out,  "  Alas ! 
young  man,  art  thou  come  to  be  one  amongst  us  in  this 
miserable  den?"  "Ay,"  quoth  Jack,  "but  pray  tell  me 
what  is  the  meaning  of  your  captivity  ?  "  "  We  are  kept 
here,"  said  one,  "  till  such  time  as  the  giants  have  a  wish  to 
feast,  and  then  the  fattest  among  us  is  slaughtered !  And 
many  are  the  times  they  have  dined  upon  murdered  men ! " 
"  Say  you  so,"  quoth  Jack,  and  straightway  unlocked  the 
gate  and  let  them  free,  who  all  rejoiced  like  condemned 
malefactors  at  sight  of  a  reprieve.  Then  searching  the 
giants'  coffers,  he  shared  the  gold  and  silver  equally  amongst 
them. 

It  was  about  sunrise  the  next  day  when  Jack,  after  seeing 
the  captives  on  their  way  to  their  respective  places  of  abode, 
mounted  his  horse  to  proceed  on  his  journey,  and,  by  the 
help  of  his  directions,  reached  the  knight's  house  about 


14  ENGLISH  FOLK 

noon.  He  was  received  here  with  all  demonstrations  of 
joy  by  the  knight  and  his  lady,  who  in  an  honourable 
respect  to  Jack  prepared  a  feast  which  lasted  many  days, 
all  the  gentry  in  the  neighbourhood  being  of  the  company. 
The  worthy  knight  was  likewise  pleased  to  present  him 
with  a  beautiful  ring,  on  which  was  engraved  a  picture  of 
the  giant  dragging  the  distressed  knight  and  his  lady,  with 
this  motto — 

"  We  are  in  sad  distress,  you  see, 
Under  a  giant's  fierce  command, 
But  gain  our  lives  and  liberty 

By  valiant  Jack's  victorious  hand." 

But  in  the  midst  of  all  this  mirth  a  messenger  brought 
the  dismal  tidings  that  one  Thunderdell,  a  giant  with  two 
heads,  having  heard  of  the  death  of  his  two  kinsmen,  came 
from  the  northern  dales  to  be  revenged  on  Jack,  and  was 
within  a  mile  of  the  knight's  seat,  the  country  people  flying 
before  him  like  chaff.  But  Jack  was  no  whit  daunted,  and 
said,  "  Let  him  come !  I  have  a  tool  to  pick  his  teeth ;  and 
you,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  walk  but  forth  into  the  garden, 
and  you  shall  witness  this  giant  Thunderdell's  death  and 
destruction." 

The  situation  of  this  knight's  house  was  in  the  midst  of  a 
small  island  encompassed  with  a  moat  thirty  feet  deep  and 
twenty  feet  wide,  over  which  lay  a  drawbridge.  Wherefore 
Jack  employed  men  to  cut  through  this  bridge  on  both 
sides,  nearly  to  the  middle;  and  then,  dressing  himself 
in  his  invisible  coat,  he  marched  against  the  giant  with 
his  sword  of  sharpness.  Although  the  giant  could  not 
see  Jack,  he  smelt  his  approach,  and  cried  out  in  these 
words — 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  15 

*•  Fee,  fi,  fo,  fum  ! 

I  smell  the  blood  of  an  English  man  1 
Be  he  alive  or  be  he  dead, 
I'll  grind  his  bones  to  make  me  bread  I " 

'*  Sa/st  thou  so,"  said  Jack ;  "  then  thou  art  a  monstrous 
miller  indeed."  At  which  the  giant  cried  out  again,  "  Art 
thou  that  villain  who  killed  my  kinsmen  ?  Then  I  will  tear 
thee  with  my  teeth,  suck  thy  blood,  and  grind  thy  bones  to 
powder."  "You  will  catch  me  first,"  quoth  Jack,  and 
throwing  off  his  invisible  coat,  so  that  the  giant  might  see 
him,  and  putting  on  his  shoes  of  swiftness,  he  ran  from  the 
giant,  who  followed  like  a  walking  castle,  so  that  the  very 
foundations  of  the  earth  seemed  to  shake  at  every  step. 
Jack  led  him  a  long  dance,  in  order  that  the  gentlemen 
and  ladies  might  see;  and  at  last,  to  end  the  matter,  ran 
lightly  over  the  drawbridge,  the  giant,  in  full  speed,  pursu- 
ing him  with  his  club.  Then,  coming  to  the  middle  of  the 
bridge,  the  giant's  great  weight  broke  it  down,  and  he 
tumbled  headlong  into  the  water,  where  he  rolled  and 
wallowed  like  a  whale.  Jack,  standing  by  the  moat,  laughed 
at  him  all  the  while ;  but  though  the  giant  foamed  to  hear 
him  scofl^  and  plunged  from  place  to  place  in  the  moat,  yet 
he  could  not  get  out  to  be  revenged.  Jack  at  length  got  a 
cart-rope  and  cast  it  over  the  two  heads  of  the  giant,  and 
drew  him  ashore  by  a  team  of  horses,  and  then  cut  off  both 
his  heads  with  his  sword  of  sharpness,  and  sent  them  to 
King  Arthur. 

After  some  time  spent  in  mirth  and  pastime,  Jack,  taking 
leave  of  the  knights  and  ladies,  set  out  for  new  adventures. 
Through  many  woods  he  passed,  and  came  at  length  to  the 
foot  of  a  high  mountain.  Here,  late  at  night,  he  found  a 
lonesome  house,  and  knocked  at  the  door,  which  was  opened 
by  an  ancient  man  with  a  head  as  white  as  snow.    "  Father," 


i6  ENGLISH  FOLK 

said  Jack,  "  have  you  entertainment  for  a  benighted  traveller 
that  has  lost  his  way  ?  "  "  Yes,"  said  the  old  man  \  "  you 
are  right  welcome  to  my  poor  cottage."  Whereupon  Jack 
entered,  and  down  they  sat  together,  and  the  old  man 
began  to  discourse  as  follows  : — "  Son,  I  am  sensible  you  are 
the  great  conqueror  of  giants,  and  behold,  my  son,  on  the 
top  of  this  mountain  is  an  enchanted  castle,  maintained  by 
a  giant  named  Galligantus,  who,  by  the  help  of  an  old  con- 
jurer, betrays  many  knights  and  ladies  into  his  castle,  where 
by  magic  art  they  are  transformed  into  sundry  shapes  and 
forms ;  but,  above  all,  I  lament  the  misfortune  of  a  duke's 
daughter,  whom  they  fetched  from  her  father's  garden, 
carrying  her  through  the  air  in  a  burning  chariot  drawn  by 
fiery  dragons,  when  they  secured  her  within  the  castle,  and 
transformed  her  into  the  shape  of  a  white  hind.  And 
though  many  knights  have  tried  to  break  the  enchantment, 
and  work  her  deliverance,  yet  no  one  could  accomplish  it,  on 
account  of  two  dreadful  griffins  which  are  placed  at  the  castle 
gate,  and  which  destroy  every  one  who  comes  near.  But 
you,  my  son,  being  furnished  with  an  invisible  coat,  may 
pass  by  them  undiscovered,  where  on  the  gates  of  the  castle 
you  will  find  engraven  in  large  letters  by  what  means  the 
enchantment  may  be  broken."  The  old  man  having  ended, 
Jack  gave  him  his  hand,  and  promised  that  in  the  morning 
he  would  venture  his  life  to  free  the  lady. 

In  the  morning  Jack  arose  and  put  on  his  invisible  coat 
and  magic  cap  and  shoes,  and  prepared  himself  for  the 
enterprise.  Now,  when  he  had  reached  the  top  of  the 
mountain  he  soon  discovered  the  two  fiery  griffins,  but 
passed  them  without  fear,  because  of  his  invisible  coat. 
When  he  had  got  beyond  them,  he  found  upon  the  gates 
of  the  castle  a  golden  trumpet  hung  by  a  silver  chain, 
under  which  these  lines  were  engraved — 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  17 

"  Whoever  shall  this  trumpet  blow, 
Shall  soon  the  giant  overthrow, 
And  break  the  black  enchantment  straight ; 
So  all  shall  be  in  happy  state." 

Jack  had  no  sooner  read  this  but  he  blew  the  trumpet, 
at  which  the  castle  trembled  to  its  vast  foundations,  and 
the  giant  and  conjurer  were  in  horrid  confusion,  biting  their 
thumbs  and  tearing  their  hair,  knowing  their  wicked  reign 
was  at  an  end.  Then  the  giant  stooping  to  take  up  his 
club,  Jack  at  one  blow  cut  off  his  head ;  whereupon  the 
conjurer,  mounting  up  into  the  air,  was  carried  away  in  a 
whirlwind.  Thus  was  the  enchantment  broken,  and  all  the 
lords  and  ladies  who  had  so  long  been  transformed  into 
birds  and  beasts  returned  to  their  proper  shapes,  and  the 
castle  vanished  away  in  a  cloud  of  smoke.  This  being 
done,  the  head  of  Galligantus  was  likewise,  in  the 
accustomed  manner,  conveyed  to  the  Court  of  King  Arthur, 
where  the  very  next  day.  Jack  followed,  with  the  knights 
and  ladies  who  had  been  so  honourably  delivered  Where- 
upon, as  a  reward  for  his  good  services,  the  king  prevailed 
upon  the  aforesaid  duke  to  bestow  his  daughter  in  marriage 
on  honest  Jack.  So  married  they  were,  and  the  whole 
kingdom  was  filled  with  joy  at  the  wedding.  Furthermore, 
the  king  bestowed  on  Jack  a  noble  habitation,  with  a  very 
beautiful  estate  thereto  belonging,  where  he  and  his  lady 
lived  in  great  joy  and  happiness  all  the  rest  of  their  days. 


THE  PRINCESS  OF  CANTERBURY.' 

In  days  of  yore,  when  this  country  was  governed  by  many 
kings,  among  the  rest  the  King  of  Canterbury  had  an  only 
daughter,  wise,  fair,  and  beautiful.  The  king  issued  a 
decree  that  whoever  would  watch  one  night  with  his 
daughter,  and  neither  sleep  nor  slumber,  should  have  her 
the  next  day  in  marriage ;  but  if  he  did  either  he  should 
lose  his  head.  Many  knights  and  squires  attempted  it,  but 
ended  in  losing  their  lives. 

Now  it  happened,  a  young  shepherd,  grazing  his  flock 
near  the  road,  said  to  his  master,  "  Zur,  I  zee  many  gentle- 
men ride  to  the  Court  at  Canterbury,  but  I  ne'er  see  'em 
return  again."  "  Oh,  shepherd,"  said  his  master,  "  I  know 
not  how  you  should,  for  they  attempt  to  watch  with  the 
king's  daughter,  according  to  the  decree,  and  not  performing 
it,  they  are  all  beheaded."  "  Well,"  said  the  shepherd,  "  I'll 
try  my  vorton ;  zo  now  vor  a  king's  daughter  or  a  headless 
shepherd  ! "  And  taking  his  bottle  and  bag,  he  trudged  to 
Court  Now,  in  his  way  he  was  to  cross  a  river,  over 
which  lay  a  plank,  and  down  he  sits  and  pulls  off  his  shoes 
and  stockings  to  wash  his  feet  While  he  was  doing  this  a 
fish  came  biting  his  toes,  and  he  caught  it  and  put  it  in  his 
bag.  After  this,  came  a  second,  and  a  third,  and  a  fourth ; 
which  he  put  in  his  bag  likewise,  and  then  pursued  his 
journey.     When  he  came  to  the  palace  he  knocked  at  the 

^  From  The  History  of  the  Four  Kings  of  Canterbury ^  Colchester^ 
Cormvall,  and  Cumberland,  their  Queens  and  Daughters.  Chap-book, 
Falkirk,  1823. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.       19 

gate  loudly  with  his  crook,  and  having  told  his  business, 
was  conducted  to  a  hall,  where  the  king's  daughter  sat 
ready  to  receive  him,  while  the  better  to  lull  his  senses,  he  was 
placed  in  a  rich  chair,  and  wines  and  fine  dishes  of  fruit  and 
meat  were  set  before  him.  Of  these  the  shepherd  ate  and 
drank  plentifully,  so  that  he  began  to  slumber  before  mid- 
night "  O  shepherd,"  said  the  lady,  "  I  have  caught  you 
napping ! "  "  Noa,  sweet  ally,  I  was  busy  a-feeshing." 
"  A-fishing ! "  said  the  princess  in  the  utmost  astonish- 
ment. *'  Nay,  shepherd,  there  is  no  fish-pond  in  the  hall." 
"No  matter  vor  that,  I  have  been  feeshing  in  my  bag." 
*'  Oh  me  ! "  said  she,  "  have  you  caught  one  ?  "  Thereupon 
the  shepherd  slyly  drew  the  fish  out  of  his  bag,  at  sight 
of  which  she  was  greatly  pleased,  and  praised  it  for  a 
pretty  fish,  and  said,  "Dear  shepherd,  do  you  think  you 
could  catch  one  in  mine  too?"  He  replied,  "Mayhap  I 
may,  when  I  have  baited  my  hook."  Then  he  did  as 
before,  and  brought  out  another,  which  the  princess  also 
extolled  as  ten  times  finer,  and  then  gave  him  leave  to  go 
to  sleep,  promising  to  excuse  him  to  her  father. 

In  the  morning  the  king  came  to  the  hall,  with  his 
headsman,  as  usual,  but  the  princess  cried  out,  "  Here  is  no 
work  for  you."  "  How  so,"  said  the  king,  "  has  he  neither 
slumbered  nor  slept?"  "No,"  said  the  princess,  "he  has 
been  fishing  in  the  hall  all  night."  When  the  king  heard  this 
and  saw  the  fish,  he  asked  him  to  catch  one  in  his  own 
bag.  The  shepherd  then  bade  the  king  lie  down,  and  having 
another  fish  ready,  and  giving  the  king  a  prick  with  a 
packing  needle,  he  drew  out  the  fish  and  showed  it  to  his 
majesty.  The  king  said  he  never  knew  such  fishing  before. 
"  However,"  said  he,  "  take  my  daughter  according  to  my 
royal  decree."  So  the  wedding  was  kept  in  great  triumph, 
and  the  poor  shepherd  became  a  king's  son. 


THE  PRINCESS  OF,  COLCHESTER,* 

Long  before  Arthur  and  the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table, 
there  reigned  in  the  eastern  part  of  England  a  king  who 
kept  his  Court  at  Colchester.  He  was  witty,  strong,  and 
valiant,  by  which  means  he  subdued  his  enemies  abroad, 
and  planted  peace  among  his  subjects  at  home.  Neverthe- 
less, in  the  midst  of  all  his  glory,  his  queen  died,  leaving 
behind  her  an  only  daughter,  about  fifteen  years  of  age. 
This  lady,  from  her  courtly  carriage,  beauty,  and  affability, 
was  the  wonder  of  all  that  knew  her.  But  as  covetousness 
is  the  root  of  all  evil,  so  it  happened  here.  The  king, 
hearing  of  a  lady  who  had  likewise  an  only  daughter, 
for  the  sake  of  her  riches,  had  a  mind  to  marry  her, 
and  though  she  was  old,  ugly,  hook-nosed,  and  hump- 
backed, yet  all  this  could  not  deter  him  from  doing 
so.  Her  daughter  was  a  yellow  dowdy,  full  of  envy  and 
ill-nature ;  and,  in  short,  was  much  of  the  same  mould  as  her 
mother.  This  signified  nothing,  for  in  a  few  weeks  the  king, 
attended  by  the  nobility  and  gentry,  brought  his  deformed 
bride  to  his  palace,  where  the  marriage  rites  were  performed. 
They  had  not  been  long  in  the  court  before  they  set  the 
king  against  his  own  beautiful  daughter,  which  was  done  by 
false  reports  and  accusations.  The  young  princess,  having 
lost  her  father's  love,  grew  weary  of  the  court,  and  one  day, 

^  From  The  History  of  the  Four  Kings  of  Canterbury ^  Colchester^ 
Cornwall,  and  Cumberland,  their  Queens  and  Daughters,  Chap-book, 
Falkirk,  1823. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.       i\ 

meeting  with  her  father  in  the  garden,  she  desired  him, 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  to  give  her  a  small  subsistence,  and 
she  would  go  and  seek  her  fortune;  to  which  the  king 
consented,  and  ordered  her  mother-in-law  to  make  up  a 
small  sum  according  to  her  discretion.  She  went  to  the 
queen,  who  gave  her  a  canvas  bag  of  brown  bread 
and  hard  cheese,  with  a  bottle  of  beer;  though  this 
was  but  a  very  pitiful  dowry  for  a  king's  daughter.  She 
took  it,  returned  thanks,  and  proceeded  on  her  journey, 
passing  through  groves,  woods,  and  valleys,  till  at 
length  she  saw  an  old  man  sitting  on  a  stone  at  the  mouth 
of  a  cave,  who  said,  "  Good  morrow,  fair  maiden,  whither 
away  so  fast  ?  "  "  Aged  father,"  says  she,  "  I  am  going  to 
seek  my  fortune."  "What  hast  thou  in  thy  bag  and 
bottle  ?  "  "  In  my  bag  I  have  got  bread  and  cheese,  and 
in  my  bottle  good  small  beer.  Will  you  please  to  partake 
of  either?"  "Yes,"  said  he,  "with  all  my  heart."  With 
that  the  lady  pulled  out  her  provisions,  and  bade  him  eat 
and  welcome.  He  did  so,  and  gave  her  many  thanks, 
saying  thus :  "  There  is  a  thick  thorny  hedge  before  you, 
which  will  appear  impassable,  but  take  this  wand  in  your 
hand,  strike  three  times,  and  say,  '  Pray,  hedge,  let  me 
come  through,'  and  it  will  open  immediately;  then,  a  little 
further,  you  will  find  a  well ;  sit  down  on  the  brink  of  it, 
and  there  will  come  up  three  golden  heads,  which  will 
speak;  and  whatever  they  require,  that  do."  Promising 
she  would,  she  took  her  leave  of  him.  Coming  to  the 
hedge,  and  pursuing  the  old  man's  directions,  it  divided, 
and  gave  her  a  passage;  then,  coming  to  the  well,  she 
had  no  sooner  sat  down  than  a  golden  head  came  up 
singing— 

"  Wash  me,  and  comb  me, 
And  lay  me  down  softly." 


a»  ENGLISH  FOLK 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  and  putting  forth  her  hand,  with  a  silver 
comb  performed  the  office,  placing  it  upon  a  primrose  bank. 
Then  came  up  a  second  and  a  third  head,  saying  the  same 
as  the  former,  which  she  complied  with,  and  then  pulling  out 
her  provisions,  ate  her  dinner.  Then  said  the  heads  one  to 
another,  "What  shall  we  do  for  this  lady  who  hath  used  us 
so  kindly?"  The  first  said,  *  I  will  cause  such  addition 
to  her  beauty  as  shall  charm  the  most  powerful  prince  in 
the  world."  The  second  said,  "I  will  endow  her  with 
such  perfume,  both  in  body  and  breath,  as  shall  far  exceed 
the  sweetest  flowers."  The  third  said,  "  My  gift  shall  be 
none  of  the  least,  for,  as  she  is  a  king's  daughter,  I'll 
make  her  so  fortunate  that  she  shall  become  queen  to  the 
greatest  prince  that  reigns."  This  done,  at  their  request 
she  let  them  down  into  the  well  again,  and  so  proceeded  on 
her  journey.  She  had  not  travelled  long  before  she  saw 
a  king  hunting  in  the  park  with  his  nobles.  She  would 
have  shunned  him,  but  the  king,  having  caught  a  sight  of 
her,  approached,  and  what  with  her  beauty  and  perfumed 
breath,  was  so  powerfully  smitten  that  he  was  not  able  to 
subdue  his  passion,  but  proceeded  at  once  to  courtship,  and 
after  some  embraces  gained  her  love,  and,  bringing  her  to 
his  palace,  caused  her  to  be  clothed  in  the  most  magnificent 
manner. 

This  being  ended,  and  the  king  finding  that  she  was  the 
King  of  Colchester's  daughter,  ordered  some  chariots  to  be 
got  ready,  that  he  might  pay  the  king  a  visit.  The  chariot 
in  which  the  king  and  queen  rode  was  adorned  with  rich 
ornamental  gems  of  gold.  The  king,  her  father,  was  at 
first  astonished  that  his  daughter  had  been  so  fortunate  as 
she  was,  till  the  young  king  made  him  sensible  of  all  that 
happened.  Great  was  the  joy  at  court  amongst  all,  with 
the  exception  of  the  queen  and  her  club-footed  daughter, 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  a3 

who  were  ready  to  burst  with  malice,  and  envied  her 
happiness;  and  the  greater  was  their  madness  because 
she  was  now  above  them  alL  Great  rejoicings,  with  feast- 
ing and  dancing,  continued  many  days.  Then  at  length, 
with  the  dowry  her  father  gave  her,  they  returned  home. 

The  hump-backed  sister-in-law,  perceiving  that  her  sister 
was  so  happy  in  seeking  her  fortune,  would  needs  do  the 
same ;  so,  disclosing  her  mind  to  her  mother,  all  prepara- 
tions were  made,  and  she  was  furnished  not  only  with  rich 
apparel,  but  sugar,  almonds,  and  sweetmeats,  in  great 
quantities,  and  a  large  bottle  of  Malaga  sack.  Thus  pro- 
vided, she  went  the  same  road  as  her  sister;  and  coming 
near  the  cave,  the  old  man  said,  "  Young  woman,  whither 
so  fast?"  "What  is  that  to  you?"  said  she.  "Then," 
said  he,  "  what  have  you  in  your  bag  and  bottle  ?  "  She 
answered,  "Good  things,  which  you  shall  not  be  troubled 
with."  "  Won't  you  give  me  some  ?  "  said  he.  "  No,  not  a 
bit,  nor  a  drop,  unless  it  would  choke  you."  The  old  man 
frowned,  saying,  "  Evil  fortune  attend  thee  ! "  Going  on, 
she  came  to  the  hedge,  through  which  she  espied  a  gap, 
and  thought  to  pass  through  it ;  but,  going  in,  the  hedge 
closed,  and  the  thorns  ran  into  her  flesh,  so  that  it  was  with 
great  difficulty  that  she  got  out  Being  now  in  a  bloody 
condition,  she  searched  for  water  to  wash  herself,  and,  look- 
ing round,  she  saw  the  well.  She  sat  down  on  the  brink  of 
it,  and  one  of  the  heads  came  up,  saying,  "  Wash  me,  comb 
me,  and  lay  me  down  softly,"  as  before,  but  she  banged  it 
with  her  bottle,  saying,  "Take  this  for  your  washing." 
So  the  second  and  third  heads  came  up,  and  met 
with  no  better  treatment  than  the  first;  whereupon  the 
heads  consulted  among  themselves  what  evils  to  plague  her 
with  for  such  usage.  The  first  said,  "  Let  her  be  struck 
with  leprosy  in  her  face."     The  second,  "  Let  an  additional 


24      ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

stink  be  added  to  her  breath."  The  third  bestowed  on  hei 
for  a  husband  but  a  poor  country  cobbler.  This  done, 
she  goes  on  till  she  came  to  a  town,  and  it  being  market- 
day,  the  people  looked  at  her,  and,  seeing  such  a  mangy 
face,  all  fled  but  a  poor  country  cobbler,  who  not  long 
before  had  mended  the  shoes  of  an  old  hermit,  who,  having 
no  money,  gave  him  a  box  of  ointment  for  the  cure  of 
the  leprosy,  and  a  bottle  of  spirits  for  a  stinking  breath. 
Now  the  cobbler,  having  a  mind  to  do  an  act  of  charity, 
was  induced  to  go  up  to  her  and  ask  her  who  she  was. 

"  I  am,"  said  she,  "  the  King  of  Colchester's  daughter-in- 
law."  "Well,"  said  the  cobbler,  "if  I  restore  you  to 
your  natural  complexion,  and  make  a  sound  cure  both  in 
face  and  breath,  will  you  in  reward  take  me  for  a  hus- 
band ?  "  "  Yes,  friend,"  replied  she ;  "  with  all  my  heart ! " 
With  this  the  cobbler  applied  the  remedies,  and  they 
worked  the  effect  in  a  few  weeks;  after  which  they  were 
married,  and  so  set  forward  for  the  Court  at  Colchester. 
When  the  queen  understood  she  had  married  nothing  but 
a  poor  cobbler,  she  fell  into  distraction,  and  hanged  herself 
in  wrath.  The  death  of  the  queen  pleased  the  king,  who 
was  glad  to  be  rid  of  her  so  soon,  and  he  gave  the  cobbler 
a  hundred  pounds  to  quit  the  Court  with  his  lady,  and 
take  her  to  a  remote  part  of  the  kingdom,  where  he  lived 
many  years  mending  shoes,  his  wife  spinning  thread. 


MR.  F0X.1 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  young  lady  called  Lady 
Mary,  who  had  two  brothers.  One  summer  they  all  three 
went  to  a  country  seat  of  theirs,  which  they  had  not  before 
visited.  Among  the  other  gentry  in  the  neighbourhood 
who  came  to  see  them  was  a  Mr.  Fox,  a  bachelor,  with 
whom  they,  particularly  the  young  lady,  were  much  pleased. 
He  used  often  to  dine  with  them,  and  frequently  invited 
Lady  Mary  to  come  and  see  his  house.  One  day  that 
her  brothers  were  absent  elsewhere,  and  she  had  nothing 
better  to  do,  she  determined  to  go  thither,  and  accordingly 
set  out  unattended.  When  she  arrived  at  the  house  and 
knocked  at  the  door,  no  one  answered. 

At  length  she  opened  it  and  went  in ;  over  the  portal  of 
the  door  was  written — 

"  Be  bold,  be  bold,  but  not  too  bold." 

She  advanced ;  over  the  staircase  was  the  same  inscription. 
She  went  up;  over  the  entrance  of  a  gallery,  the  same 
again.  Still  she  went  on,  and  over  the  door  of  a  chamber 
found  written — 

'•  Be  bold,  be  bold,  but  not  too  bold, 
Lest  that  your  heart's  blood  should  run  cold  t  " 

^  Malone's  Shakspeare  (1821),  vol.  vii.  p.  163.     See  note  at  end  of 
story. 


a6  ENGLISH  FOLK 

She  opened  it ;  it  was  full  of  skeletons  and  tubs  of  blood. 
She  retreated  in  haste,  and,  coming  downstairs,  saw  from  a 
window  Mr.  Fox  advancing  towards  the  house  with  a  drawn 
sword  in  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  dragged  along 
a  young  lady  by  her  hair.  Lady  Mary  had  just  time 
to  slip  down  and  hide  herself  under  the  stairs  before 
Mr.  Fox  and  his  victim  arrived  at  the  foot  of  them.  As  he 
pulled  the  young  lady  upstairs,  she  caught  hold  of  one  of 
the  bannisters  with  her  hand,  on  which  was  a  rich  bracelet. 
Mr.  Fox  cut  it  off  with  his  sword.  The  hand  and  bracelet 
fell  into  Lady  Mary's  lap,  who  then  contrived  to  escape 
unobserved,  and  got  safe  home  to  her  brothers'  house. 

A  few  days  afterwards  Mr.  Fox  came  to  dine  with  them 
as  usual.  After  dinner  the  guests  began  to  amuse  each 
other  with  extraordinary  anecdotes,  and  Lady  Mary  said 
she  would  relate  to  them  a  remarkable  dream  she  had  lately 
had.  I  dreamt,  said  she,  that  as  you,  Mr.  Fox,  had  often 
invited  me  to  your  house,  I  would  go  there  one  morning. 
When  I  came  to  the  house  I  knocked  at  the  door,  but  no 
one  answered.  When  I  opened  the  door,  over  the  hall  I 
saw  written,  "Be  bold,  be  bold,  but  not  too  bold."  But, 
said  she,  turning  to  Mr.  Fox,  and  smiling,  "  It  is  not  so^ 
nor  it  was  not  so."  Then  she  pursued  the  rest  of  the  story, 
concluding  at  every  turn  with,  "  It  is  not  so,  nor  it  was  not 
so,"  till  she  came  to  the  room  full  of  skeletons,  when 
Mr.  Fox  took  up  the  burden  of  the  tale,  and  said — 

"  It  is  not  so,  nor  it  was  not  so, 
And  God  forbid  it  should  be  so  ! " — 

which  he  continued  to  repeat  at  every  subsequent  ttim  of 
the  dreadful  story,  till  she  came  to  the  circumstance  of  his 
cutting  off  the  young  lady's  hand,  when,  upon  his  saying,  as 
usual — 


AND  FAIRY  TALES,  ,       27 

"  It  is  not  so,  nor  it  was  not  so, 
And  God  forbid  it  should  be  so  T— * 

Lady  Mary  retorts  by  saying — 

'•  But  it  is  so,  and  it  was  so, 
And  here  the  hand  I  have  to  show  1" — 

at  the  same  moment  producing  the  hand  and  bracelet  from 
her  lap,  whereupon  the  guests  drew  their  swords,  and 
instantly  cut  Mr.  Fox  into  a  thousand  pieces. 

*  This  story  was  contributed  to  Malone's  Shakspeare  by  Blake- 
way,  in  elucidation  of  Benedict's  speech  in  *•  Much  Ado  about 
Nothing,"  Act  i..  Scene  i — "  Like  the  old  tale,  my  Lord:  it  is  not  so, 
nor  'twas  not  so  ;  but  indeed,  God  forbid  it  should  be  so  1 "  Blakeway 
adds  that  this  is  evidently  an  allusion  to  the  tale  of  "  Mr.  Fox," 
"  which  Shakspeare  may  have  beard,  as  I  have,  related  by  a  great-aunt, 
in  childhood." 


"TOM  TIT  TOT."i 

Once  upon  a  time  there  were  a  woman,  and  she  baked  five 
pies.  And  when  they  come  out  of  the  oven,  they  was  that 
overbaked  the  crast  were  too  hard  to  eat.  So  she  says  to 
her  darter : 

"MaVr/'^  says  she,  "put  you  them  there  pies  on  the 
shelf,  an'  leave  'em  there  a  little,  an'  they'll  come  again." — 
She  meant,  you  know,  the  crust  'ud  get  soft. 

But  the  gal,  she  says  to  herself:  "Well,  if  they'll  come 
agin,  I'll  ate  'em  now."  And  she  set  to  work  and  ate  'em 
all,  first  and  last. 

Well,  come  supper-time  the  woman  she  said  :  "  Goo  you, 
and  git  one  o'  them  there  pies.  I  dare  say  they've  come 
agin  now." 

The  gal  she  went  an'  she  looked,  and  there  warn't  nothin' 
but  the  dishes.  So  back  she  come  and  says  she:  "Noo, 
they  ain't  come  agin." 

"  Not  none  on  'em  ?  "  says  the  mother. 

"  Not  none  on  'em,"  says  she. 

^  Folk-Lore  Journal,  vol.  vli.  p.  138,  quoted  by  Mr.  Edward  Clodd 
from  an  old  number  of  the  Ipswich  Journal. 

'  •'  Mawther,"  remarks  J.  G.  Nail  in  his  Glossary  of  the  Dialect 
and  Provincialisms  of  East  Anglia  (Longman,  1866),  "  is  the  most 
curious  word  in  the  East  Anglian  vocabulary.  A  woman  and  her 
mawther  means  a  woman  and  her  daughter."  The  word  is  without 
doubt  derived  from  the  same  root  as  **  maid "  and  cognate  words, 
upon  which  cf.  Skeat's  Elymol.  Dictionary,  s.  v. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.       29 

"Well,  come  agin,  or  not  come  agin,"  says  the  woman, 
"111  ha'  one  for  supper." 

"  But  you  can't,  if  they  ain't  come,"  says  the  gaL 

"  But  I  can,"  says  she.  "  Goo  you,  and  bring  the  best  of 
'em." 

"  Best  or  worst,"  says  the  gal,  "  I've  ate  'em  all,  and  you 
can't  ha'  one  till  that's  come  agin." 

Well,  the  woman  she  were  wholly  bate,  and  she  took  her 
spinnin'  to  the  door  to  spin,  and  as  she  span  she  sang  : 

'*  My  darter  ha'  ate  five,  five  pies  to-day. 
My  darter  ha'  ate  five,  five  pies  to-day." 

The  king  he  were  a  comin'  down  the  street,  an'  he  hard 
her  sing,  but  what  she  sang  he  couldn't  hare,  so  he  stopped 
and  said : 

"  What  were  that  you  was  a  singun  of,  maw'r  ?  " 
The  woman  she  were  ashamed  to  let  him  hare  what  her 
darter  had  been  a  doin',  so  she  sang,  'stids  o'  that : 

"  My  darter  ha'  spun  five,  five  skeins  to-day. 
My  darter  ha'  spun  five,  five  skeins  to-day." 

"  S'ars  o'  mine !  "  said  the  king,  "  I  never  heard  tell  of 
any  one  as  could  do  that." 

Then  he  said:  "Look  you  here,  T  want  a  wife,  and  I'll 
marry  your  darter.  But  look  you  here,"  says  he,  "  'leven 
months  out  o'  the  year  she  shall  have  all  the  vittles  she  likes 
to  eat,  and  all  the  gownds  she  likes  to  git,  and  all  the 
cumpny  she  likes  to  hev;  but  the  last  month  o'  the  year 
she'll  ha'  to  spin  five  skeins  iv'ry  day,  an'  if  she  doon't,  I 
shall  kill  her." 

"  All  right,"  says  the  woman ;  for  she  thowt  what  a  grand 
marriage  that  was.     And  as  for  them  five  skeins,  when  te 


30  ENGLISH  FOLK 

come  tew,  there'd  be  plenty  o'  ways  of  gettin'  out  of  it,  and 
likeliest,  he'd  ha'  forgot  about  it 

Well,  so  they  was  married.  An'  for  'leven  months  the 
gal  had  all  the  vittles  she  liked  to  ate,  and  all  the  gownds 
she  liked  to  git,  an'  all  the  cumpny  she  liked  to  hev. 

But  when  the  time  was  gettin'  oover,  she  began  to  think 
about  them  there  skeins  an'  to  wonder  if  he  had  'em  in 
mind  But  not  one  word  did  he  say  about  'em,  an'  she 
whooUy  thowt  he'd  forgot  'em. 

Howsivir,  the  last  day  o'  the  last  month  he  takes  her  to  a 
room  she'd  niver  set  eyes  on  afore.  There  worn't  nothing 
in  it  but  a  spinnin'-wheel  and  a  stool.  An'  says  he:  "  Now, 
my  dear,  hare  yow'U  be  shut  in  to-morrow  with  some  vittles 
and  some  flax,  and  if  you  hain't  spun  five  skeins  by  the 
night,  yar  hid  '11  goo  off." 

An'  awa'  he  went  about  his  business. 

Well,  she  were  that  frightened,  she'd  alius  been  such  a 
gatless  mawther,  that  she  didn't  so  much  as  know  how  to 
spin,  an'  what  were  she  to  dew  to-morrer,  with  no  one  to 
come  nigh  her  to  help  her.  She  sat  down  on  a  stool  in  the 
kitchen,  and  lork !  how  she  did  cry  ! 

Howsivir,  all  on  a  sudden  she  hard  a  sort  of  a  knockin' 
low  down  on  the  door.  She  upped  and  oped  it,  an'  what 
should  she  see  but  a  small  little  black  thing  with  a  long  tail. 
That  looked  up  at  her  right  kewrious,  an'  that  said  : 

"  What  are  yew  a  cry  in'  for  ?  " 

"  Wha's  that  to  yew  ?  "  says  she. 

"  Niver  yew  mind,"  that  said,  "  but  tell  me  what  you're 
a  cry  in'  for." 

"  That  oon't  dew  me  noo  good  if  I  dew,"  says  she. 

"  Yew  doon't  know  that,"  that  said,  an'  twirled  that's  tail 
round. 

"Well,''  says  she,  "that  oon't  dew  no  harm,  if  that  doon't 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  %l 

dew  no  good,"  and  she  upped  and  told  about  the  pies,  an' 
the  skeins,  an'  everything. 

"  This  is  what  I'll  dew,"  says  the  little  black  thing,  "  111 
come  to  yar  winder  iv'ry  momin'  an'  take  the  flax  an'  bring 
it  spun  at  night" 

**  What's  your  pay  ?  "  says  she. 

That  looked  out  o'  the  comer  o'  that's  eyes,  an'  that  said : 
"  I'll  give  you  three  guesses  every  night  to  guess  my  name, 
an'  if  you  hain't  guessed  it  afore  the  month's  up,  yew  shall 
be  mine." 

Well,  she  thowt  she'd  be  sure  to  guess  that's  name  afore 
the  month  was  up.     "  All  right,"  says  she,  "  I  agree." 

"  All  right,"  that  says,  an'  lork !  how  that  twirled  that's 
tail. 

Well,  the  next  day,  her  husband  he  took  her  inter  the 
room,  an'  there  was  the  flax  an'  the  day's  vittles. 

"  Now  there's  the  flax,"  says  he,  "  an'  if  that  ain't  spun 
up  this  night,  off  goo  yar  hid."  An'  then  he  went  out  an' 
locked  the  door. 

He'd  hardly  goon  when  there  was  a  knockin'  agin  the 
winder. 

She  upped  and  she  oped  it,  and  there  sure  enough  was 
the  little  oo'd  thing  a  settin'  on  the  ledge. 

"  Where's  the  flax  ?  "  says  he. 

"  Here  te  be,"  says  she.     And  she  gonned  it  to  him 

Well,  come  the  evenin'  a  knockin'  come  agin  to  the 
winder.  She  upped  an'  she  oped  it,  and  there  were  the  little 
oo'd  thing  with  five  skeins  of  flax  on  his  arm. 

"  Here  te  be,"  says  he,  an'  he  gonned  it  to  her. 

"  Now,  what's  my  name  ?  "  says  he. 

"  What,  is  that  Bill  ?  "  says  she. 

"  Noo,  that  ain't,"  says  he,  an'  he  twirled  his  tail. 

"  Is  that  Ned  ?  "  says  she. 


3a  ENGLISH  FOLK 

"  Noo,  that  ain't,"  says  he,  an'  he  twirled  his  tail 

"  Well,  is  that  Mark?  "  says  she. 

"  Noo,  that  ain't,"  says  he,  an'  he  twirled  his  tail  harder, 
an'  awa'  he' flew. 

Well,  when  har  husban'  he  come  in,  there  was  the  five 
skeins  riddy  for  him.  "  I  see  I  shorn't  hev  for  to  kill  you 
to-night,  me  dare,"  says  he ;  "  yew'll  hev  yar  vittles  and  yar 
flax  in  the  morn  in',"  says  he,  an'  away  he  goes. 

Well,  ivery  day  the  flax  an'  the  vittles  they  was  browt, 
an'  ivery  day  that  there  little  black  impet  used  for  to  come 
mornins  and  evenins.  An'  all  the  day  the  mawther  she  set 
a  tryin'  fur  to  think  of  names  to  say  to  it  when  te  come  at 
night  But  she  niver  hot  on  the  right  one.  An'  as  that  got 
to-warts  the  ind  o'  the  month,  the  impet  that  began  for  to 
look  soo  maliceful,  an'  that  twirled  that's  tail  faster  an'  faster 
each  time  she  gave  a  guess. 

At  last  te  came  to  the  last  day  but  one.  The  impet  that 
come  at  night  along  o'  the  five  skeins,  and  that  said  : 

"  What,  ain't  yew  got  my  name  yet  ?  " 

"  Is  that  Nicodemus  ?  "  says  she. 

"  Noo,  t*ain't,"  that  says. 

"  Is  that  Sammle?  "  says  she. 

"  Noo,  t'ain't,"  that  says. 

"  A-well,  is  that  Methusalem  ?  "  says  she. 

"  Noo,  t'ain't  that  norther,"  that  says. 

Then  that  looks  at  her  with  that's  eyes  like  a  cool  o'  fire, 
an'  that  says:  "  Woman,  there's  only  to-morrer  night,  an'  then 
yar'U  be  mine ! "     An'  away  te  flew. 

Well,  she  felt  that  horrudi  Howsomediver,  she  hard  the 
king  a  comin'  along  the  passage.  In  he  came,  an'  when  he 
see  the  five  skeins,  he  says,  says  he  : 

"  Well,  me  dare,"  says  he.  "  I  don't  see  but  what  yew'll 
ha'  your  skeins  ready  to-morrer  night  as  well,  an'  as  I  reckon 


AND  FAIRY  TALES,  33 

I  shorn't  ha'  to  kill  yon,  I'll  ha'  supper  in  here  to-night." 
So  they  brought  supper,  an'  another  stool  for  him,  and  down 
the  tew  they  sat 

Well,  he  hadn't  eat  but  a  mouthful  or  so,  when  he  stops 
an'  begins  to  laugh. 

"What  is  it?"  says  she. 

"  A- why,"  says  he,  "I  was  out  a  huntin'  to-day,  an'  I  got 
away  to  a  place  in  the  wood  I'd  never  seen  afore.  An' 
there  was  an  old  chalk-pit.  An'  I  heerd  a  sort  of  a  hummin', 
kind  o*.  So  I  got  off  my  hobby,  an'  I  went  right  quiet  to 
the  pit,  an'  I  looked  down.  Well,  what  should  there  be  but 
the  funniest  little  black  thing  yew  iver  set  eyes  on.  An' 
what  was  that  a  dewin'  on,  but  that  had  a  little  spinnin'- 
wheel,  an'  that  were  a  spinnin'  wonnerful  fast,  an'  a  twirlin' 
that's  tail     An'  as  that  span,  that  sang : 

"  '  Nimmy  nimmy  not 

My  name's  Tom  Tit  Tot.'  " 

Well,  when  the  mawther  heerd  this,  she  fared  as  if  she 
could  ha'  jumped  outer  her  skin  for  joy,  but  she  di'n't  say  a 
word. 

Next  day  that  there  little  thing  looked  soo  maliceful 
when  he  come  for  the  flax.  An'  when  night  came,  she 
heerd  that  a  knockin'  agin  the  winder  panes.  She  oped 
the  winder,  an'  that  come  right  in  on  the  ledge.  That  were 
grinnin'  from  are  to  are,  an'  Oo !  tha's  tail  were  twirlin' 
round  so  fast. 

"  What's  my  name?  "  that  says,  as  that  gonned  her  the 
skeins. 

"  Is  that  Solomon  ?  "  she  says,  pretendin'  to  be  afeard. 

"  Noo,  t'ain't,"  that  says,  an'  that  come  fudder  inter  the 
room. 


34      ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

"  Well,  is  that  Zebedee  ?  "  says  she  agin. 

•'  Noo,  t'ain't,"  says  the  impet  An'  then  that  laughed 
an'  twirled  that's  tail  till  yew  cou'n't  hardly  see  it 

"  Take  time,  woman,"  that  says ;  "  next  guess,  an'  you're 
mine."    An'  that  stretched  out  that's  black  hands  at  her. 

Well,  she  backed  a  step  or  two,  an'  she  looked  at  it,  and 
then  she  laughed  out,  an'  says  she,  a  pointin'  of  her  finger 

at  it: 

"  Nimmy  nimmy  not 
Yar  name's  Tom  Tit  Tot." 

Well,  when  that  hard  her,  that  shruck  awful  an'  awa'  that 
flew  into  the  dark,  an'  she  niver  saw  it  noo  more. 


JACK  AND  THE  BEAN-STALK.* 

There  lived  a  poor  widow,  whose  cottage  stood  in  a 
country  village,  a  long  distance  from  London,  for  many 
years. 

The  widow  had  only  a  child  named  Jack,  whom  she 
gratified  in  everything;  the  consequence  of  her  partiality 
was,  that  Jack  paid  little  attention  to  anything  she  said; 
and  he  was  heedless  and  extravagant.  His  follies  were  not 
owing  to  bad  disposition,  but  to  his  mother  never  having 
chided  him.  As  she  was  not  wealthy,  and  he  would  not 
work,  she  was  obliged  to  support  herself  and  him  by  selling 
everything  she  had.     At  last  nothing  remained  only  a  cow. 

The  widow,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  could  not  help 
reproaching  Jack.  "  Oh  I  you  wicked  boy,"  said  she,  "  by 
your  prodigal  course  of  life  you  have  now  brought  us  both 
to  fall !  Heedless,  heedless  boy !  I  have  not  money 
enough  to  buy  a  bit  of  bread  for  another  day:  nothing 
remains  but  my  poor  cow,  and  that  must  be  sold,  or  we 
must  starve ! " 

Jack  was  in  a  degree  of  tenderness  for  a  few  minutes,  but 
soon  over ;  and  then  becoming  very  hungry  for  want  of  food 
he  teased  his  poor  mother  to  let  him  sell  the  cow ;  to  which 
at  last  she  reluctantly  consented. 

As  he  proceeded  on  his  journey  he  met  a  butcher,  who 
inquired  why  he  was  driving  the  cow  from  home?  Jack 
replied  he  was  going  to  sell  it.     The   butcher  had  some 

^  From  a  Chap-book. 


36  ENGLISH  FOLK 

wonderful  beans,  of  different  colours,  in  his  bag,  which 
attracted  Jack's  notice.  This  the  butcher  saw,  who,  knowing 
Jack's  easy  temper,  resolved  to  take  advantage  of  it,  and 
offered  all  the  beans  for  the  cow.  The  foolish  boy  thought 
it  a  great  offer.  The  bargain  was  momently  struck,  and 
the  cow  exchanged  for  a  few  paltry  beans.  When  Jack 
hastened  home  with  the  beans  and  told  his  mother,  and 
showed  them  to  her,  she  kicked  the  beans  away  in  a  great 
passion.  They  flew  in  all  directions,  and  were  extended  as 
far  as  the  garden. 

Early  in  the  morning  Jack  arose  from  his  bed,  and 
seeing  something  strange  from  the  window,  he  hastened 
downstairs  into  the  garden,  where  he  soon  found  that 
some  of  the  beans  had  grown  in  root,  and  sprung  up  wonder- 
fully :  the  stalks  grew  in  an  immense  thickness,  and  had  so 
entwined,  that  they  formed  a  ladder  like  a  chain  in  view. 

Looking  upwards,  he  could  not  descry  the  top,  it  seemed 
to  be  lost  in  the  clouds.  He  tried  it,  discovered  it  firm,  and 
not  to  be  shaken.  A  new  idea  immediately  struck  him :  he 
would  climb  the  bean-stalk,  and  see  to  whence  it  would 
lead.  Full  of  this  plan,  which  made  him  forget  even  his 
hunger,  Jack  hastened  to  communicate  his  intention  to  his 
mother. 

He  instantly  set  out,  and  after  climbing  for  some  hours, 
reached  the  top  of  the  bean-stalk,  fatigued  and  almost 
exhausted.  Looking  round,  he  was  surprised  to  find  himself 
in  a  strange  country  j  it  looked  to  be  quite  a  barren  desert ; 
not  a  tree,  shrub,  house,  or  living  creature  was  to  be  seen. 

Jack  sat  himself  pensively  upon  a  block  of  stone,  and 
thought  of  his  mother ;  his  hunger  attacked  him,  and  now 
he  appeared  sorrowful  for  his  disobedience  in  climbing  the 
bean-stalk  against  her  will;  and  concluded  that  he  must 
now  die  for  want  of  food. 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  37 

However,  he  walked  on,  hoping  to  see  a  house  wliere 
he  might  beg  something  to  eat.  Suddenly  he  observed  a 
beautiful  young  female  at  some  distance.  She  was  dressed 
in  an  elegant  manner,  and  had  a  small  white  wand  in  her 
hand,  on  the  top  of  which  was  a  peacock  of  pure  gold.  She 
approached  and  said :  "  I  will  reveal  to  you  a  story  your 
mother  dare  not.  But  before  I  begin,  I  require  a  solemn 
promise  on  your  part  to  do  what  I  command.  I  am  a  fairy, 
and  unless  you  perform  exactly  what  1  direct  you  to  do, 
you  will  deprive  me  of  the  power  to  assist  you ;  and  there 
is  little  doubt  but  that  you  will  die  in  the  attempt."  Jack 
was  rather  frightened  at  this  caution,  but  promised  to  follow 
her  directions. 

"  Your  father  was  a  rich  man,  with  a  disposition  greatly 
benevolent.  It  was  his  practice  never  to  refuse  relief  to  the 
deserving  in  his  neighbourhood;  but,  on  the  contrary,  to 
seek  out  the  helpless  and  distressed.  Not  many  miles 
from  your  father's  house  lived  a  huge  giant,  who  was  the 
dread  of  the  country  around  for  cruelty  and  oppression. 
This  creature  was  moreover  of  a  very  envious  disposition, 
and  disliked  to  hear  others  talked  of  for  their  goodness 
and  humanity,  and  he  vowed  to  do  him  a  mischief,  so  that 
he  might  no  longer  hear  his  good  actions  made  the  subject 
of  every  one's  conversation.  Your  father  was  too  good  a 
man  to  fear  evil  from  others ;  consequently  it  was  not  long 
before  the  cruel  giant  found  an  opportunity  to  put  his 
wicked  threats  into  practice ;  for  hearing  that  your  parents 
were  about  passing  a  few  days  with  a  friend  at  some  distance 
from  home,  he  caused  your  father  to  be  waylaid  and 
murdered,  and  your  mother  to  be  seized  on  their  way 
homeward. 

"  At  the  time  this  happened,  you  were  but  a  few  months 
old.     Your  poor  mother,  almost  dead  with  affright  and 

5 


38  ENGLISH  FOLK 

horror,  was  borne  away  by  the  cruel  giant's  emissaries,  to  a 
dungeon  under  his  house,  in  which  she  and  her  poor  babe 
were  both  long  confined  as  prisoners.  Distracted  at  the 
absence  of  your  parents,  the  servants  went  in  search  of 
them ;  but  no  tidings  of  either  could  be  obtained.  Mean- 
time he  caused  a  will  to  be  found  making  over  all  your 
father's  property  to  him  as  your  guardian,  and  as  such  he 
took  open  possession. 

"  After  your  mother  had  been  some  months  in  prison, 
the  giant  offered  to  restore  her  to  liberty,  on  condition  that 
she  would  solemnly  swear  that  she  would  never  divulge  the 
story  of  her  wrongs  to  any  one.  To  put  it  out  of  her  power 
to  do  him  any  harm,  should  she  break  her  oath,  the  giant 
had  her  put  on  ship-board,  and  taken  to  a  distant  country  \ 
where  he  had  her  left  with  no  more  money  for  her  support 
than  what  she  obtained  from  the  sale  of  a  few  jewels  she 
had  secreted  in  her  dress. 

"  I  was  appointed  your  father's  guardian  at  his  birth ; 
but  fairies  have  laws  to  which  they  are  subject  as  well  as 
mortals.  A  short  time  before  the  giant  assassinated  your 
father,  I  trangressed ;  my  punishment  was  a  suspension  of 
my  power  for  a  limited  time,  an  unfortunate  circumstance, 
as  it  entirely  prevented  my  assisting  your  father,  even  when 
I  most  wished  to  do  so.  The  day  on  which  you  met  the 
butcher,  as  you  went  to  sell  your  mother's  cow,  my  power 
was  restored.  It  was  I  who  secretly  prompted  you  to  take 
the  beans  in  exchange  for  the  cow.  By  my  power  the 
bean-stalk  grew  to  so  great  a  height,  and  formed  a  ladder. 
The  giant  lives  in  this  country;  you  are  the  person 
appointed  to  punish  him  for  all  his  wickedness.  You  will 
have  dangers  and  difficulties  to  encounter,  but  you  must 
persevere  in  avenging  the  death  of  your  father,  or  you  will 
not  prosper  in  any  of  your  undertakings. 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  39 

"  As  to  the  giant's  possessions,  everything  he  has  is 
yours,  though  you  are  deprived  of  it ;  you  may  take,  there- 
fore, what  part  of  it  you  can.  You  must,  however,  be  careful, 
for  such  is  his  love  for  gold,  that  the  first  loss  he  discovers 
will  make  him  outrageous  and  very  watchful  for  the  future. 
But  you  must  still  pursue  him ;  for  it  is  only  by  stratagem 
that  you  can  ever  hope  to  overcome  him,  and  become 
possessed  of  your  rightful  property,  and  the  means  of 
retributive  justice  overtaking  him  for  his  barbarous  murder. 
One  thing  I  desire  is,  do  not  let  your  mother  know  you 
are  acquainted  with  your  father's  history  till  you  see  me 
again. 

"  Go  along  the  direct  road ;  you  will  soon  see  the  house 
where  your  cruel  enemy  lives.  While  you  do  as  I  order 
you,  I  will  protect  and  guard  you;  but  remember,  if  you 
disobey  my  commands,  a  dreadful  punishment  awaits  you." 

As  soon  as  she  had  concluded  she  disappeared,  leaving 
Jack  to  follow  his  journey.  He  walked  on  till  after  sunset, 
when,  to  his  great  joy,  he  espied  a  large  mansion.  This 
pleasant  sight  revived  his  drooping  spirits;  he  redoubled 
his  speed,  and  reached  it  shortly.  A  well-looking  woman 
stood  at  the  door:  he  accosted  her,  begging  she  would 
give  him  a  morsel  of  bread  and  a  night's  lodging.  She 
expressed  the  greatest  surprise  at  seeing  him;  and  said 
it  was  quite  uncommon  to  see  any  strange  creature  near 
their  house,  for  it  was  mostly  known  that  her  husband  was 
a  very  cruel  and  powerful  giant,  and  one  that  would  eat 
human  flesh,  if  he  could  possibly  get  it. 

This  account  terrified  Jack  greatly,  but  still,  not  forgetting 
the  fairy's  protection,  he  hoped  to  elude  the  giant,  and 
therefore  he  entreated  the  woman  to  take  him  in  for  one 
night  only,  and  hide  him  where  she  thought  proper.  The 
good  woman  at  last  suffered  herself  to  be  persuaded,  for  her 


40  ENGLISH  FOLK 

disposition  was  remarkably  compassionate,  and  at  last  led 
him  into  the  house. 

First  they  passed  an  elegant  hall,  finely  furnished ;  they 
then  proceeded  through  several  spacious  rooms,  all  in  the 
same  style  of  grandeur,  but  they  looked  to  be  quite  forsaken 
and  desolate.  A  long  gallery  came  next ;  it  was  very  dark, 
just  large  enough  to  show  that,  instead  of  a  wall  each  side, 
there  was  a  grating  of  iron,  which  parted  off  a  dismal 
dungeon,  from  whence  issued  the  groans  of  several  poor 
victims  whom  the  cruel  giant  reserved  in  confinement  for 
his  voracious  appetite.  Poor  Jack  was  in  a  dreadful  fright 
at  witnessing  such  a  horrible  scene,  which  caused  him  to 
fear  that  he  would  never  see  his  mother,  but  be  captured 
lastly  for  the  giant's  meat ;  but  still  he  recollected  the  fairy, 
and  a  gleam  of  hope  forced  itself  into  his  heart. 

The  good  woman  then  took  Jack  to  a  spacious  kitchen, 
where  a  great  fire  was  kept ;  she  bade  him  sit  down,  and  gave 
him  plenty  to  eat  and  drink.  In  the  meantime  he  had 
done  his  meal  and  enjoyed  himself,  but  was  disturbed  by  a 
hard  knocking  at  the  gate,  so  loud  as  to  cause  the  house  to 
shake.  Jack  was  concealed  in  the  oven,  and  the  giant's 
wife  ran  to  let  in  her  husband. 

Jack  heard  him  accost  her  in  a  voice  like  thunder,  saying : 
"Wife!  wife!  I  smell  fresh  meat!"  "Oh!  my  dear," 
replied  she,  "it  is  nothing  but  the  people  in  the  dungeon." 
The  giant  seemed  to  believe  her,  and  at  last  seated  himself 
by  the  fireside,  whilst  the  wife  prepared  supper. 

By  degrees  Jack  endeavoured  to  look  at  the  monster 
through  a  small  crevice.  He  was  much  surprised  to  see 
what  an  amazing  quantity  he  devoured,  and  supposed  he 
would  never  have  done  eating  and  drinking.  After  his 
supper  was  ended,  a  very  curious  hen  was  brought  and 
placed  on  the  table  before  him.     Jack's  curiosity  was  so 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  41 

great  to  see  what  would  happen.  He  observed  that  it  stood 
quiet  before  him,  and  every  time  the  giant  said :  "  Lay  !  " 
the  hen  laid  an  egg  of  solid  gold.  The  giant  amused  him- 
self a  long  time  with  his  hen;  meanwhile  his  wife  went  to 
bed.  At  length  he  fell  asleep,  and  snored  like  the  roaring 
of  a  cannon.  Jack  finding  him  still  asleep  at  daybreak, 
crept  softly  from  his  hiding-place,  seized  the  hen,  and  ran 
off  with  her  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  possibly  allow  him. 

Jack  easily  retraced  his  way  to  the  bean-stalk,  and 
descended  it  better  and  quicker  than  he  expected.  His 
mother  was  overjoyed  to  see  him.  "  Now,  mother,"  said 
Jack,  "  I  have  brought  you  home  that  which  will  make  you 
rich."  The  hen  produced  as  many  golden  eggs  as  they 
desired ;  they  sold  them,  and  soon  became  possessed  of  as 
much  riches  as  they  wanted. 

For  a  few  months  Jack  and  his  mother  lived  very  happy, 
but  he  longed  to  pay  the  giant  another  visit  Early  in  the 
morning  he  again  climbed  the  bean-stalk,  and  reached  the 
giant's  mansion  late  in  the  evening :  the  woman  was  at  the 
door  as  before.  Jack  told  her  a  pitiful  tale,  and  prayed  for 
a  night's  shelter.  She  told  him  that  she  had  admitted  a 
poor  hungry  boy  once  before,  and  the  little  ingrate  had 
stolen  one  of  the  giant's  treasures,  and  ever  since  that  she 
had  been  cruelly  used.  She  however  led  him  to  the 
kitchen,  gave  him  a  supper,  and  put  him  in  a  lumber 
closet.  Soon  after  the  giant  came  in,  took  his  supper,  and 
ordered  his  wife  to  bring  down  his  bags  of  gold  and  silver. 
Jack  peeped  out  of  his  hiding-place,  and  observed  the  giant 
counting  over  his  treasures,  and  after  which  he  carefully 
put  them  in  bags  again,  fell  asleep,  and  snored  as  before. 
Jack  crept  quietly  from  his  hiding-place,  and  approached 
the  giant,  when  a  little  dog  under  the  chair  barked  furiously. 
Contrary  to  his  expectation,  the  giant  slept  on  soundly,  and 


4a  ENGLISH  FOLK 

the  dog  ceased  Jack  seized  the  bags,  reached  the  door  in 
safety,  and  soon  arrived  at  the  bottom  of  the  bean-stalk. 
When  he  reached  his  mother's  cottage,  he  found  it  quite 
deserted.  Greatly  surprised  he  ran  into  the  village,  and  an 
old  woman  directed  him  to  a  house,  where  he  found  his 
mother  apparently  dying.  On  being  informed  of  our  hero's 
safe  return,  his  mother  revived  and  soon  recovered.  Jack 
then  presented  two  bags  of  gold  and  silver  to  her. 

His  mother  discovered  that  something  preyed  upon  his 
mind  heavily,  and  endeavoured  to  discover  the  cause ;  but 
Jack  knew  too  well  what  the  consequence  would  be  should 
he  discover  the  cause  of  his  melancholy  to  her.  He  did 
his  utmost  therefore  to  conquer  the  great  desire  which 
now  forced  itself  upon  him  in  spite  of  himself  for  another 
journey  up  the  bean-sta'ik. 

On  the  longest  day  Jack  arose  as  soon  as  it  was  light, 
ascended  the  bean-stalk,  and  reached  the  top  with  some 
little  trouble.  He  found  the  road,  journey,  etc.,  the  same 
as  on  the  former  occasions.  He  arrived  at  the  giant's  house 
in  the  evening,  and  found  his  wife  standing  as  usual  at  the 
door.  Jack  now  appeared  a  different  character,  and  had 
disguised  himself  so  completely  that  she  did  not  appear  to 
have  any  recollection  of  him.  However,  when  he  begged 
admittance,  he  found  it  very  difficult  to  persuade  her.  At 
last  he  prevailed,  was  allowed  to  go  in,  and  was  concealed 
in  the  copper. 

When  the  giant  returned,  he  said,  as  usual :  "  Wife  1  wife ! 
I  smell  fresh  meat ! "  But  Jack  felt  quite  composed,  as  he 
had  said  so  before,  and  had  soon  been  satisfied.  However, 
the  giant  started  up  suddenly,  and  notwithstanding  all  his 
wife  could  say,  he  searched  all  round  the  room.  Whilst 
this  was  going  forward.  Jack  was  much  terrified,  and  ready 
to  die  with  fear,  wishing  himself  at  home  a  thousand  times; 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  43 

but  when  the  giant  approached  the  copper,  and  put  his 
hand  upon  the  lid,  Jack  thought  his  death  was  certain. 
Fortunately  the  giant  ended  his  search  there,  without 
moving  the  lid,  and  seated  himself  quietly  by  the  fire- 
side. 

When  the  giant's  supper  was  over,  he  commanded  his 
wife  to  fetch  down  his  harp.  Jack  peeped  under  the 
copper-lid,  and  soon  saw  the  most  beautiful  one  that  could 
be  imagined.  It  was  put  by  the  giant  on  the  table,  who  said : 
"  Play,"  and  it  instantly  played  of  its  own  accord.  The 
music  was  uncommonly  fine.  Jack  was  delighted,  and  felt 
more  anxious  to  get  the  harp  into  his  possession  than  either 
of  the  former  treasures. 

The  giant's  soul  was  not  attuned  to  harmony,  and  the 
music  soon  lulled  him  into  a  sound  sleep.  Now,  therefore, 
was  the  time  to  carry  off  the  harp,  as  the  giant  appeared 
to  be  in  a  more  profound  sleep  than  usual.  Jack  soon 
made  up  his  mind,  got  out  of  the  copper,  and  seized  the 
harp;  which,  however,  being  enchanted  by  a  fairy,  called 
out  loudly :  *'  Master,  master  ! " 

The  giant  awoke,  stood  up,  and  tried  to  pursue  Jack ;  but 
he  had  drank  so  much  that  he  could  not  stand.  Jack  ran 
as  quick  as  he  could.  In  a  httle  time  the  giant  recovered 
sufficiently  to  walk  slowly,  or  rather  to  reel  after  him.  Had 
he  been  sober,  he  must  have  overtaken  Jack  instantly  j  but 
as  he  then  was.  Jack  contrived  to  be  first  at  the  top  of  the 
bean-stalk.  The  giant  called  to  him  all  the  way  along  the 
road  in  a  voice  like  thunder,  and  was  sometimes  very  near 
to  him. 

The  moment  Jack  got  down  the  bean-stalk,  he  called  out 
for  a  hatchet :  one  was  brought  him  directly.  Just  at  that 
instant  the  giant  began  to  descend,  but  Jack  with  his 
hatchet  cut  the  bean-stalk  close  off  at  the  root,  and  the 


44      ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

giant  fell  headlong  into  the  garden.    The  fall  instantly  killed 
him. 

Jack  heartily  begged  his  mother's  pardon  for  all  the 
sorrow  and  affliction  he  had  caused  her,  promising  most 
faithfully  to  be  dutiful  and  obedient  to  her  in  future.  He 
proved  as  good  as  his  word,  and  became  a  pattern  of 
afiectiouate  behaviour  and  attention  to  his  parent 


SAGAS. 


SAGAS. 


HISTORICAL  AND    LOCAL. 


THE  STORY  OF  SAINT  KENELM.1 

When  little  more  than  a  mile  out  of  Hales  Owen,  I  struck 
oflF  the  high  road  through  a  green  lane,  flanked  on  both 
sides  by  extensive  half-grown  woods,  and  overhung  by 
shaggy  hedges,  that  were  none  the  less  picturesque  from 
their  having  been  long  strangers  to  the  shears,  and  much 
enveloped  in  climbing,  berry-bearing  plants,  honeysuckles, 
brambles,  and  the  woody  nightshade.  As  the  path  winds 
up  the  acclivity,  the  scene  assumes  an  air  of  neglected 
wildness,  not  very  common  in  England:  the  tangled 
thickets  rise  in  irregular  groups  in  the  foreground;  and, 
closing  in  the  prospect  behind,  I  could  see  through  the 
frequent  openings  the  green  summits  of  the  Clent  Hills, 
now  scarce  half  a  mile  away,  I  was  on  historic  ground — 
the  "  various  wild,"  according  to  Shenstone,  "  for  Kenelm's 
fate  renowned;"  and  which  at  a  still  earlier  period  had 
formed  one  of  the  battle-fields  on  which  the  naked  Briton 
contended  on  unequal  terms  with  the  mail-enveloped 
Roman.  Half-way  up  the  ascent,  at  a  turning  in  the  lane, 
^  Iluj^h  Miller,  Firsi  Impresiiotu  of  England  and  its  People^  p.  169. 


48  ENGLISH  FOLK 

where  the  thicket  opens  into  a  grassy  glade,  there  stands  a 
fine  old  chapel  of  dark  red  sandstone,  erected  in  the  times 
of  the  Heptarchy,  to  mark  the  locale  of  a  tragedy  charac- 
teristic of  the  time — the  murder  of  the  boy-king  St.  Kenelm, 
at  the  instigation  of  his  sister  Kendrida.  I  spent  some 
time  in  tracing  the  half-obliterated  carvings  on  the  squat 
Saxon  doorway — by  far  the  most  ancient  part  of  the  edifice 
— and  in  straining  hard  to  find  some  approximation  to  the 
human  figure  in  the  rude  effigy  of  a  child  sculptured  on  a 
wall,  with  a  crown  on  its  head  and  a  book  in  its  hand, 
intended,  say  the  antiquaries,  to  represent  the  murdered 
prince,  but  at  present  not  particularly  like  anything.  The 
story  of  Kenelm  we  find  indicated,  rather  than  told,  in  one 
of  Shenstone's  elegies : — 

"  Fast  by  the  centre  of  yon  various  wild, 

Where  spreading  oaks  embower  a  Gothic  fane, 
Kendrida's  arts  a  brother's  youth  beguiled  ; 

There  nature  urged  her  tenderest  pleas  in  vain. 
Soft  o'er  his  birth,  and  o'er  his  infant  hours, 

Tlie  ambitious  maid  could  every  care  employ ; 
And  with  assiduous  fondness  crop  the  flowers. 

To  deck  the  cradle  of  the  princely  boy. 

"  But  soon  the  bosom's  pleasing  calm  is  flown  ; 

Love  fires  her  breast ;  the  sultry  passions  rise ; 
A  favoured  lover  seeks  the  Mercian  throne, 

And  views  her  Kenelm  with  a  rival's  eyes. 
See,  garnished  for  the  chase,  the  fraudful  maid 

To  these  lone  hills  direct  his  devious  way : 
The  youth,  all  prone,  the  sister-guide  obeyed  ; 

Ill-fated  youth  1  himself  the  destined  prey." 

The  minuter  details  of  the  incident,  as  given  by  William 
of  Malmesbury  and  Matthew  of  Westminster,  though 
admirably  fitted  for  the  purpose  of  the  true  ballad-maker, 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  49 

are  of  a  kind  which  would  hardly  have  suited  the  somewhat 
lumbrous  dignity  of  Shenstone's  elegiacs.  Poor  Kenelm, 
at  the  time  of  his  death,  was  but  nine  years  old.  His 
murderer,  the  favoured  lover  of  his  sister,  after  making  all 
sure  by  cutting  off  his  head  with  a  long-bladed  knife,  had 
buried  head,  knife,  and  body  under  a  bush  in  a  "low 
pasture"  in  the  forest,  and  the  earth  concealed  its  dead. 
The  deed,  however,  had  scarce  been  perpetrated,  when  a 
white  dove  came  flying  into  old  St  Peter's,  at  Rome,  a 
full  thousand  miles  away,  bearing  a  scroll  in  its  bill,  and, 
dropping  the  scroll  on  the  high  altar,  straightway  disap- 
peared. And  on  the  scroll  there  was  found  inscribed  in 
Saxon  characters  the  following  couplet : — 

•'  In  Clent,  in  Caubage,  Kenelm,  kinge-bom, 
Lyeth  under  a  thorne,  his  hede  off  shorne." 

So  marvellous  an  intimation — miraculous  among  its  other 
particulars,  in  the  fact  that  rhyme  of  such  angelic  origin 
should  be  so  very  bad,  though  this  part  of  the  miracle 
the  monks  seem  to  have  missed — was  of  course  not  to  be 
slighted.  The  churchmen  of  Mercia  were  instructed  by 
the  pontiff  to  make  diligent  search  after  the  body  of  the 
slain  prince;  and  priests,  monks,  and  canons,  with  the 
Bishop  of  Mercia  at  their  head,  proceeded  forthwith  in 
long  procession  to  the  forest  And  there,  in  what  Milton, 
in  telling  the  story,  terms  a  "mead  of  kine,"  they  found 
a  cow  lowing  pitifully,  beside  what  seemed  to  be  a  newly- 
laid  sod.  The  earth  was  removed,  the  body  of  the 
murdered  prince  discovered,  the  bells  of  the  neighbouring 
churches  straightway  began  "to  rongen  a  peale  without 
mannes  helpe,"  and  a  beautiful  spring  of  water,  the  resort 
of  many  a  pilgrim  for  full  seven  centuries  after,  burst  out 


so  ENGLISH  FOLK 

of  the  excavated  hollow.  The  chapel  was  erected  im- 
mediately beside  the  well;  and  such  was  the  odour  of 
sanctity  which  embalmed  the  memory  of  St.  Kenelm,  that 
there  was  no  saint  in  the  calendar  on  whose  day  it  was 
more  unsafe  to  do  anything  useful.  There  is  a  furrow 
still  to  be  seen,  scarce  half  a  mile  to  the  north  of  the 
chapel,  from  which  a  team  of  oxen,  kept  impiously  at 
work  during  the  festival  of  the  saint,  ran  away,  and  were 
never  after  heard  of;  and  the  owner  lost  not  only  his 
cattle,  but,  shortly  after,  his  eyes  to  boot.  The  chapel 
received  gifts  in  silver,  and  gifts  in  gold — "crouns,"and 
"ceptres,"and  "chalysses":  there  grew  up  around  it,  mainly 
through  the  resort  of  pilgrims,  a  hamlet,  which  in  the 
times  of  Edward  the  First  contained  a  numerous  popu- 
lation, and  to  which  Henry  the  Third  granted  an  annual 
fair.  At  length  the  age  of  the  Reformation  arrived ;  Henry 
the  Eighth  seized  on  the  gold  and  silver ;  Bishop  Latimer 
broke  down  the  well ;  the  pilgrimages  ceased ;  the  hamlet 
disappeared;  the  fair,  after  lingering  on  till  the  year  1784, 
disappeared  also ;  and  St.  Kenelm's,  save  that  the  ancient 
chapel  still  survived,  became  exactly  such  a  scene  of  wild 
woodland  solitude  as  it  had  been  ere  the  boy-prince  fell 
under  the  knife  of  the  assassin.  The  drama  of  a  thousand 
years  was  over,  when,  some  time  about  the  close  of  the 
last  century,  a  few  workmen  engaged  in  excavating  the 
foundations  of  the  ruined  monastery  of  Winchcomb,  in 
which,  according  to  the  monkish  chroniclers,  the  body  of 
the  young  prince  had  been  interred  near  that  of  his  father, 
lighted  on  a  little  stone  coffin,  beside  a  larger,  which  lay 
immediately  under  the  great  eastern  window  of  the  church. 
They  raised  the  lid.  There  rested  within  a  little  dust,  a 
few  fragments  of  the  more  solid  bones,  a  half-grown  human 
skull  tolerably  entire,  and  beside  the  whole,  and  occupying 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  51 

half  the  length  of  the  little  coffin,  lay  a  long-bladed  knife, 
converted  into  a  brittle  oxide,  which  fell  in  pieces  in  the 
attempt  to  remove  it.  The  portion  of  the  story  that  owed 
its  existence  to  the  monks  had  passed  into  a  little  sun-gilt 
vapour;  but  here  was  there  evidence  corroborative  of  its 
truthful  nucleus  surviving  still. 


WILD  EDRIC.i 

Shropshire  men  must  have  been  well  acquainted  with  the 
fairies  five  hundred  years  ago.  It  was  reported  then  that 
our  famous  champion,  Wild  Edric,  had  had  an  elf-maiden 
for  his  wife.  One  day,  we  are  told,  when  he  was  returning 
from  hunting  in  the  forest  of  Clun,  he  lost  his  way,  and 
wandered  about  till  nightfall,  alone,  save  for  one  young 
page.  At  last  he  saw  the  lights  of  a  very  large  house  in  the 
distance,  towards  which  he  turned  his  steps  ;  and  when  he 
had  reached  it,  he  beheld  within  a  large  company  of  noble 
ladies  dancing.  They  were  exceedingly  beautiful,  taller  and 
larger  than  women  of  the  human  race,  and  dressed  in 
gracefully-shaped  linen  garments.  They  circled  round 
with  smooth  and  easy  motion,  singing  a  soft  low  song  of 
which  the  hunter  could  not  understand  the  words.  Among 
them  was  one  maiden  who  excelled  all  the  others  in  beauty, 
at  the  sight  of  whom  our  hero's  heart  was  inflamed  with 
love.  Forgetting  the  fears  of  enchantment,  which  at  the 
first  moment  had  seized  him,  he  hurried  round  the  house, 
seeking  an  entrance,  and  having  found  it,  he  rushed  in,  and 
snatched  the  maiden  who  was  the  object  of  his  passion  from 
her  place  in  the  moving  circle.  The  dancers  assailed  him 
with  teeth  and  nails,  but  backed  by  his  page,  he  escaped  at 

*  Miss  C  S.  Burne,   Shropshire  Folk-lore,  p.  59 ;    from  Walter 
Aflapes. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.       53 

length  from  their  hands,  and  succeeded  in  carrying  ofT  his 
fair  captive.  For  three  whole  days  not  his  utmost  caresses 
and  persuasions  could  prevail  on  her  to  utter  a  single  word, 
but  on  the  fourth  day  she  suddenly  broke  the  silence. 
"  Good  luck  to  you,  my  dear  !  "  said  she,  "and  you  will  be 
lucky  too,  and  enjoy  health  and  peace  and  plenty,  as  long 
as  you  do  not  reproach  me  on  account  of  my  sisters,  or  the 
place  from  which  you  snatched  me  away,  or  anything 
connected  with  it.  For  on  the  day  when  you  do  so  you 
will  lose  both  your  bride  and  your  good  fortune ;  and  when 
I  am  taken  away  from  you,  you  will  pine  away  quickly  to 
an  early  death." 

He  pledged  himself  by  all  that  was  most  sacred  to  be 
ever  faithful  and  constant  in  his  love  for  her,  and  they  were 
solemnly  wedded  in  the  presence  of  all  the  nobles  from  far 
and  near,  whom  Edric  invited  to  their  bridal  feast  At  that 
time  William  the  Norman  was  newly  made  king  of  England, 
who,  hearing  of  this  wonder,  desired  both  to  see  the  lady, 
and  to  test  the  truth  of  the  tale ;  and  bade  the  newly- 
married  pair  to  London,  where  he  was  holding  his  Court. 
Thither  then  they  went,  and  many  witnesses  from  their  own 
country  with  them,  who  brought  with  them  the  testimony  of 
others  who  could  not  present  themselves  to  the  king.  But 
the  marvellous  beauty  of  the  lady  was  the  best  of  all  proofs 
of  her  superhuman  origin.  And  the  king  let  them  return 
in  peace,  wondering  greatly. 

Many  years  passed  happily  by,  till  one  evening  Edric 
returned  late  from  hunting,  and  could  not  find  his  wife. 
He  sought  her  and  called  for  her  for  some  time  in 
vain.  At  last  she  appeared.  "  I  suppose,"  began  he, 
with  angry  looks,  "it  is  your  sisters  who  have  detained 
you  such  a  long  time,  have  they  not?"  The  rest  of 
his  upbraiding  was  addressed  to  the  air,  for  the  moment 

G 


54       ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES, 

her  sisters  were  mentioned  she  vanished.  Edric's  grief  was 
overwhelming.  He  sought  the  place  where  he  had  found 
her  at  first,  but  no  tears,  no  laments  of  his  could  call  hei 
back.  He  cried  out  day  and  night  against  his  own  folly, 
and  pined  away  and  died  of  sorrow,  as  his  wife  had  long 
before  foretold. 


LADY  G0DIVA.1 


The  Countess  Godiva,  who  was  a  great  lover  of  God's 
mother,  longing  to  free  the  town  of  Coventry  from  the 
oppression  of  a  heavy  toll,  often  with  urgent  prayers 
besought  her  husband  that,  from  regard  to  Jesus  Christ 
and  his  mother,  he  would  free  the  town  from  that  service 
and  from  all  other  heavy  burdens  ;  and  when  the  Earl 
sharply  rebuked  her  for  foolishly  asking  what  was  so  much 
to  his  damage,  and  always  forbade  her  evermore  to  speak  to 
him  on  the  subject ;  and  while  she,  on  the  other  hand,  with 
a  woman's  pertinacity,  never  ceased  to  exasperate  her 
husband  on  that  matter,  he  at  last  made  her  this  answer : 
"  Mount  your  horse  and  ride  naked,  before  all  the  people, 
through  the  market  of  the  town  from  one  end  to  the  other, 
and  on  your  return  you  shall  have  your  request."  On 
which  Godiva  replied,  "  But  will  you  give  me  permission  if 
I  am  willing  to  do  it ? "  "I  will,"  said  he.  Whereupon 
the  Countess,  beloved  of  God,  loosed  her  hair  and  let  down 
•her  tresses,  which  covered  the  whole  of  her  body  like  a  veil, 
and  then  mounting  her  horse  and  attended  by  two  knights, 
she  rode  through  the  market-place,  without  being  seen, 
except  her  fair  legs ;  and  having  completed  the  journey,  she 
returned  with  gladness  to  her  astonished  husband,  and 
obtained  of  him  what  she  had  asked ;  for  Earl  Leofric 
freed  the  town  of  Coventry  and  its  inhabitants  from  the 

^  Rope  of  Wendover,  Flowers  of  History ^  Dr.  Giles'  translation,  sub 
anno  1057. 


S6      ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  V  TALES. 

aforesaid  service,  and  confirmed  what  he  had  done  by  a 
charter. 


The  modern  version  of  the  story  adds  in  the  Laureate's 
words : — 

"  And  one  low  churl,  compact  of  thankless  earth, 
The  fatal  byword  of  all  years  to  come, 
Boring  a  little  auger-hole  in  fear, 
Peep'd — but  his  eyes,  before  they  had  their  will, 
Were  shrivell'd  into  darkness  in  his  head. 
And  dropt  before  him.     So  the  Powers,  who  wait 
On  noble  deeds,  cancell'd  a  sense  misus'd." 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  SONS  OF  THE 
CONQUEROR.  1 

One  day,  it  being  observed  that  William  was  absorbed 
in  deep  thought,  his  courtiers  ventured  to  inquire  the 
cause  of  such  profound  abstraction.  "  I  am  speculating," 
said  the  monarch,  "on  what  may  be  the  fate  of  my  sons 
after  my  death."  "  Your  majesty,"  replied  the  wise  men 
of  the  court,  "  the  fate  of  your  sons  will  depend  upon 
their  conduct,  and  their  conduct  will  depend  upon  their 
respective  characters ;  permit  us  to  make  a  few  inquiries, 
and  we  shall  soon  be  able  to  tell  you  that  which  you 
wish  to  know."  The  king  signifying  his  approbation,  the 
wise  men  consulted  together,  and  agreed  to  put  questions 
separately  to  the  three  princes,  who  were  then  young. 
The  first  who  entered  the  room  was  Robert,  afterwards 
known  by  the  surname  of  Courthose.  "Fair  sir,"  said 
one  of  the  wise  men,  "  answer  me  a  question — If  God  had 
made  you  a  bird,  what  bird  would  you  wish  to  have  been  ?  " 
Robert  answered :  "A  hawk,  because  it  resembles  most 
a  courteous  and  gallant  knight"  William  Rufus  next 
entered,  and  his  answer  to  the  same  question  was :  "  I 
would  be  an  eagle,  because  it  is  a  strong  and  powerful 
bird,  and  feared  by  all  other  birds,  and  therefore  it  is  king 
over  them  all."  Lastly,  came  the  younger  brother  Henry, 
who  had  received  a  learned  education,  and  was  on  that 
account  known  by  the  surname  of  Beauclerc     His  choice 

^  Chambers's  Book  of  Days,  vol.  iL  p.  328. 


58  ENGLISH  FOLK 

was  a  starling,  "Because  it  is  a  debonnaire  and  simple  bird, 
and  gains  its  living  without  injury  to  any  one,  and  never 
seeks  to  rob  or  grieve  its  neighbour."  The  wise  men 
returned  immediately  to  the  king.  Robert,  they  said, 
would  be  bold  and  valiant,  and  would  gain  renown  and 
honour,  but  he  would  finally  be  overcome  by  violence, 
and  die  in  prison.  William  would  be  powerful  and  strong 
as  the  eagle,  but  feared  and  hated  for  his  cruelty  and 
violence,  until  he  ended  a  wicked  life  by  a  bad  death. 
But  Henry  would  be  wise,  prudent,  and  peaceful,  unless 
when  actually  compelled  to  engage  in  war,  and  would  die 
in  peace  after  gaining  wide  possessions.  So  when  King 
William  lay  on  his  death-bed  he  remembered  the  saying 
of  his  wise  men,  and  bequeathed  Normandy  to  Robert, 
England  to  William,  and  his  own  treasures,  without  land, 
to  his  younger  son  Henry,  who  eventually  became  king 
of  both  countries,  and  reigned  long  and  prosperously. 

This  story,  which  most  probably  is  of  Eastern  origin,  is 
frequently  told  under  various  circumstances  by  mediaeval 
writers.  A  Latin  manuscript,  of  the  thirteenth  century, 
relates  it  in  the  following  form  : — 

A  wealthy  English  baron,  whose  broad  lands  extended 
over  a  large  extent  of  England  and  Wales,  had  three  sons ; 
when  lying  on  his  death-bed  he  called  them  to  him,  and 
said :  "  If  you  were  compelled  to  become  birds,  tell  me  what 
bird  each  of  you  would  choose  to  resemble?"  The  eldest 
said:  "I  would  be  a  hawk,  because  it  is  a  noble  bird,  and 
lives  by  rapine."  The  second  said:  "  I  would  be  a  starling, 
because  it  is  a  social  bird,  and  flies  in  coveys."  The 
youngest  said:  "I  would  be  a  swan,  because  it  has  a  long 
neck,  so  that  if  I  had  anything  in  my  heart  to  say,  I  should 
have  plenty  of  time  for  reflection  before  it  came  to  my 
mouth."     When  the  father  had  heard  them,  he  said  to  the 


AND  FAIR  Y  TALES.  59 

first:  "Thou,  my  son,  as  I  perceive,  desirest  to  live  by 
rapine;  I  will  therefore  bequeath  thee  my  possessions  in 
England,  because  it  is  a  land  of  peace  and  justice,  and  thou 
canst  not  rob  in  it  with  impunity."  To  the  second  he  said: 
"Because  thou  lovest  society,  I  will  bequeath  thee  my 
lands  in  Wales,  which  is  a  land  of  discord  and  war,  in  order 
that  thy  courtesy  may  soften  down  the  malice  of  the 
natives."  And  then  turning  to  the  youngest,  he  said:  **To 
thee  I  bequeath  no  land  at  all,  because  thou  art  wise,  and 
wilt  gain  enough  by  thy  wisdom."  And  as  he  foretold,  the 
youngest  son  profited  by  his  wisdom,  and  became  Lord 
Chief-Justice  of  England,  which  in  those  times  was  the  next 
dignity  to  that  of  king. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  BECKET'S  PARENTS.^ 

In  connection  with  the  renowned  Thomas  Becket  a  curious 
story  is  related  of  the  marriage  of  his  parents.  It  is  said 
that  Gilbert,  his  father,  had  in  his  youth  followed  the 
Crusaders  to  Palestine,  and  while  in  the  East  had  been 
taken  prisoner  by  a  Saracen  or  Moor  of  high  rank.  Con- 
fined by  the  latter  within  his  own  castle,  the  young 
Englishman's  personal  attractions  and  miserable  condition 
alike  melted  the  heart  of  his  captor's  daughter,  a  fair 
Mohammedan,  who  enabled  him  to  escape  from  prison 
and  regain  his  native  country.  Not  wholly  disinterested, 
however,  in  the  part  which  she  acted  in  this  matter,  the 
Moor's  daughter  obtained  a  promise  from  Gilbert,  that 
as  soon  as  he  had  settled  quietly  in  his  own  land,  he  should 
send  for,  and  marry  his  protectress.  Years  passed  on, 
but  no  message  ever  arrived  to  cheer  the  heart  of  the 
love-lorn  maiden,  who  thereupon  resolved  to  proceed  to 
England  and  remind  the  forgetful  knight  of  his  engage- 
ment This  perilous  enterprise  she  actually  accomplished ; 
and  though  knowing  nothing  of  the  English  language 
beyond  the  Christian  name  of  her  lover  and  his  place 
of  residence  in  London,  which  was   Cheapside,  she  con- 

'  Chambers's  Bock  of  Days,  vol.  ii.  p.  784. — The  reader  is  referred 
to  the  graceful  poem  on  the  subject  by  Mr.  Lewis  Morris  in  the  Songs 
of  Two  Worlds.  The  old  ballads  mentioned  above  may  be  studied 
with  all  their  known  variants  in  Professor  Child's  English  and  Scottish 
Ballads,  vol.  i.  p.  454. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES.      6i 

trived  to  search  him  out;  and  with  greater  success  than 
could  possibly  have  been  anticipated,  found  him  ready 
to  fulfil  his  former  promise  by  making  her  his  wife. 
Previous  to  the  marriage  taking  place  she  professed  her 
conversion  to  Christianity,  and  was  baptised  with  great 
solemnity  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  no  less  than  six  bishops 
assisting  at  the  ceremony.  The  only  child  of  this  union 
was  the  celebrated  Thomas  Becket,  whose  devotion  in 
after-years  to  the  cause  of  the  church  may  be  said  to  have 
been  a  befitting  recompense  for  the  attention  which  her 
ministers  had  shown  in  watching  over  the  spiritual  welfare 
of  his  mother. 

This  singular  story  has  found  credence  in  recent  times 
with  Dr.  Giles,  M.  Thierry,  Mr.  Froude,  and  M.  Michelet; 
but  by  one  of  the  most  judicious  modern  biographers  of 
Becket,  Canon  Robertson,  it  is  rejected  as  a  legendary  tale, 
wholly  unsupported  by  the  evidence  of  those  chroniclers 
who  were  Becket's  contemporaries.  It  gave  rise,  both  in 
England  and  Scotland,  to  more  than  one  ballad,  in  which 
the  elder  Becket's  imprisonment  in  the  East,  his  liberation 
by  the  aid  of  the  Moorish  damsel,  and  the  latter's  expedi- 
tion to  Britain  in  quest  of  him,  are  all  set  forth  with  sundry 
additions  and  embellishments.  In  one  of  these,  which 
bears  the  name  of  Lord  Beichan,  the  fair  young  Saracen, 
who,  by  some  extraordinary  corruption  or  misapprehension, 
is  recorded  under  the  designation  of  Susie  Pye^  follows  her 
lover  to  Scotland,  and  there  surprises  him  at  the  very  hour 
when  he  is  about  to  unite  himself  in  marriage  to  another 
lady.  The  faithless  lover,  on  being  reminded  of  his 
previous  compact,  professes  the  utmost  contrition,  and 
declares  at  once  his  resolve  to  wed  the  Saracen's  daughter, 
who  had  given  such  evidence  of  her  love  and  attachment  to 
him,  by  making  so  long  and  dangerous  a  journey.     The 


62      ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

hapless  bride,  who  would  otherwise  have  speedily  become  his 
wife,  is  unceremoniously  dismissed  along  with  her  mother  j 
and  the  nuptials  of  Lord  Beichan  and  Susie  Pye  are  then 
celebrated  with  great  magnificence.  Another  ballad  on  the 
same  subject  is  entitled  Young  Bekie,  but  the  heroine  here 
is  represented  as  the  daughter  of  the  king  of  France,  and 
distinguished  by  the  title  of  Burd  Isbel.  By  such  romantic 
embellishments,  and  so  incongruous  and  ridiculous  a 
nomenclature,  did  the  ballad-writers  of  a  later  age  embody 
in  verse  the  story  of  the  parents  of  the  renowned  archbishop 
of  Canterbiury. 


THE  FAUSE  FABLE  OF  THE  LORD  LATHOM.i 

A    FAYNED   TALE. 

When  the  war  was  'tvvixt  the  Englishmen  and  the  Irishmen 
the  power  of  the  English  so  sore  assaulted  the  Irishmen 
that  the  king  of  them,  being  of  Ireland,  was  constrained  to 
take  succour  by  flight  into  other  parts  for  his  safeguard ; 
and  the  queen,  being  pregnant  and  great  with  child,  right 
near  her  time  of  deliverance,  for  dread  of  the  rudeness  of 
the  commonalty,  took  her  flight  into  the  wilderness,  where 
her  chance  was  to  suffer  travail  of  child,  bringing  forth  two 
children,  the  one  a  son,  the  other  a  daughter ;  when  after 
by  natural  compulsion  she  and  such  gentlewomen  as  were 
with  her  was  constrained  to  sleep,  insomuch  that  the  two 
children  were  ravished  from  the  mother ;  and  the  daughter, 
as  it  is  said,  is  kept  in  Ireland  with  the  fairies.  Insomuch 
that  against  the  time  of  death  of  any  of  that  blood  of 
Stanleys  she  maketh  a  certain  noise  in  one  quarter  of 
Ireland,  where  she  useth  [to  stay]. 

The  son  was  taken  and  borne  away  with  an  eagle,  and 
brought  into  Lancashire,  into  a  park  called  Lathom  Park, 
whereas  did  dwell  a  certain  lord,  named  the  Lord  Lathom ; 
the  which  Lord  Lathom,  walking  in  his  park,  heard  a  child 
lament  and  cry,   and  perceived  the  skirts  of  the  mantle 

1  Journal  of  the  British  Archaolos^cal  Association,  vol.  vii. ,  from 
Hare's  MSS.,  vol.  ii.  ;  reprinted  in  Ilarland  and  Wilkinson's  Lanca- 
shire Legends,  p.  259. 


64  ENGLISH  FOLK 

lying  over  the  nest  side,  and  made  his  servants  to  bring 
down  the  child  unto  him. 

And  whereas  both  he  and  his  wife  being  in  far  age,  and 
she  past  conceiving  of  child,  considering  they  never  could 
have  issue,  reckoning  that  God  had  sent  this  child  by 
miracle,  they  condescended  to  make  this  child  their  heir, 
and  so  did.  At  length  this  Lord  Lathom  and  his  wife 
deceased,  and  this  young  man,  which  was  named  Oskell  of 
Lathom,  reigned  and  ruled  this  land  as  right  heir,  and  he 
had  to  issue  a  daughter  which  was  his  heir  and  child  by  the 
Lady  Lathom. 

It  chanced  so  that  one  Stanley,  being  a  younger  brother 
of  the  House  of  Wolton  in  Cheshire,  was  servant  to  the 
Abbot  of  West  Chester.  This  young  man  Stanley  was 
carver  to  the  Abbot,  and  he  would  not  break  his  fast  on 
the  Sunday  till  he  had  heard  the  high  mass.  Insomuch 
that  it  chanced  one  Sunday  when  the  meat  was  served  on 
the  table,  he  had  so  great  hunger  he  carved  the  pig's  head, 
and  conveyed  one  of  the  ears  of  the  pig  and  did  eat  it. 

When  the  Abbot  sat  down,  and  perchance  missed  the 
pig's  ear,  he  was  miscontent  and  in  a  great  fume,  and 
reviled  so  extremely  and  so  heinously  this  young  Stanley, 
that  he  threw  the  napkin  at  his  head,  and  said  he  would  do 
him  no  more  service,  and  departed.  And  he  came  to  the 
king's  court,  and  obtained  his  service,  and  proved  so  active 
a  fellow  that  the  renown  sprang  and  inflamed  upon  him, 
insomuch  that  the  fame  and  bruit  descended  from  him 
around  this  realm. 

And  when,  as  the  use  then  was,  that  noble  adventurers 
would  seek  their  fortune  and  chance  into  divers  and  strange 
nations,  one  renowned  gallant  came  into  England,  and  he 
called  as  challenger  for  death  and  life,  come  who  list. 
Insomuch  that  the  king  commanded  this  Stanley  to  cope 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  65 

with  him ;  and,  to  make  short  protestation,  his  chance  was 
to  overthrow  the  challenger  and  obtain  the  victory.  Then 
the  king  made  him  knight,  and  gave  him  certain  lands  to 
live  on. 

After  this  foresaid  Stanley  came  for  marriage  to  the 
daughter  of  Oskell  of  Lathom,  which  was  found  in  the 
eagle's  nest,  and  obtained  her  favour,  and  espoused  her. 
And  then  after  the  death  of  Oskell  he  was  Lord  Lathom, 
and  enjoyed  it  many  years.  And  for  such  service  as  he 
did  afterwards  the  king  made  him  Lord  Stanley;  and  he 
was  the  first  lord  of  the  name ;  and  so  by  that  reason  the 
Stanleys  descended  of  Lathom  give  the  eagle  and  the  child 
in  their  arms. 


WKITTINGTON  AND  HIS  CAT.i 

In  the  reign  of  the  famous  King  Edward  III.  there  was  a 
little  boy  called  Dick  Whittington,  whose  father  and  mother 
died  when  he  was  very  young,  so  that  he  remembered 
nothing  at  all  about  them,  and  was  left  a  ragged  little  fellow, 
running  about  a  country  village.  As  poor  Dick  was  not 
old  enough  to  work,  he  was  very  badly  off;  he  got  but 
little  for  his  dinner,  and  sometimes  nothing  at  all  for  his 
breakfast ;  for  the  people  who  lived  in  the  village  were  very 
poor  indeed,  and  could  not  spare  him  much  more  than  the 
parings  of  potatoes,  and  now  and  then  a  hard  crust  of  bread. 

For  all  this  Dick  Whittington  was  a  very  sharp  boy,  and 
was  always  listening  to  what  everybody  talked  about  On 
Sunday  he  was  sure  to  get  near  the  farmers,  as  they  sat  talk- 
ing on  the  tombstones  in  the  churchyard,  before  the  parson 
was  come ;  and  once  a  week  you  might  see  little  Dick  lean- 
ing against  the  sign-post  of  the  village  alehouse,  where  people 
stopped  to  drink  as  they  came  from  the  next  market  town ; 
and  when  the  barber's  shop  door  was  open,  Dick  listened 
to  all  the  news  that  his  customers  told  one  another. 

In  this  manner  Dick  heard  a  great  many  very  strange 
things  about  the  great  city  called  London;  for  the  foolish 
country  people  at  that  time  thought  that  folks  in  London 
were  all  fine  gentlemen  and  ladies ;  and  that  there  was 
singing  and  music  there  all  day  long ;  and  that  the  streets 
were  all  paved  with  gold. 

^  From  a  Chap-book. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES.       67 

One  day  a  large  waggon  and  eight  horses,  all  with  bells 
at  their  heads,  drove  through  the  village  while .  Dick  was 
standing  by  the  sign-post  He  thought  that  this  waggon 
must  be  going  to  the  fine  town  of  London ;  so  he  look 
courage,  and  asked  the  waggoner  to  let  him  walk  with  him 
by  the  side  of  the  waggon.  As  soon  as  the  waggoner  heard 
that  poor  Dick  had  no  father  or  mother,  and  saw  by  his 
ragged  clothes  that  he  could  not  be  worse  off  than  he  was, 
he  told  him  he  might  go  if  he  would,  so  they  set  off 
together. 

I  could  never  find  out  how  little  Dick  contrived  to  get 
meat  and  drink  on  the  road ;  nor  how  he  could  walk  so  far, 
for  it  was  a  long  way ;  nor  what  he  did  at  night  for  a  place 
to  lie  down  to  sleep  in.  Perhaps  some  good-natured  people 
in  the  towns  that  he  passed  through,  when  they  saw  he  was 
a  poor  little  ragged  boy,  gave  him  something  to  eat;  and 
perhaps  the  waggoner  let  him  get  into  the  waggon  at  night, 
and  take  a  nap  upon  one  of  the  boxes  or  large  parcels  in 
the  waggon. 

Dick  however  got  safe  to  London,  and  was  in  such  a 
hurry  to  see  the  fine  streets  paved  all  over  with  gold,  that 
I  am  afraid  he  did  not  even  stay  to  thank  the  kind  wag- 
goner; but  ran  off"  as  fast  as  his  legs  would  carry  him, 
through  many  of  the  streets,  thinking  every  moment  to 
come  to  those  that  were  paved  with  gold;  for  Dick  had 
seen  a  guinea  three  times  in  his  own  little  village,  and 
remembered  what  a  deal  of  money  it  brought  in  change; 
so  he  thought  he  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  take  up  some 
little  bits  of  the  pavement,  and  should  then  have  as  much 
money  as  he  could  wish  for. 

Poor  Dick  ran  till  he  was  tired,  and  had  quite  forgot  his 
friend  the  waggoner ;  but  at  last,  finding  it  grow  dark,  and 
that  every  way  he  turned  he  saw  nothing  but  dirt  instead 


68  ENGLISH  FOLK 

of  gold,  he  sat  down  in  a  dark  comer  and  cried  himself  to 
sleep. 

Little  Dick  was  all  night  in  the  streets ;  and  next  morning, 
being  very  hungry,  he  got  up  and  walked  about,  and  asked 
everybody  he  met  to  give  him  a  halfpenny  to  keep  him 
from  starving ;  but  nobody  stayed  to  answer  him,  and  only 
two  or  three  gave  him  a  halfpenny ;  so  that  the  poor  boy 
was  soon  quite  weak  and  faint  for  the  want  of  victuals. 

At  last  a  good-natured  looking  gentleman  saw  how  hungry 
he  looked.  "  Why  don't  you  go  to  work,  my  lad  ?  "  said  he 
to  Dick.  "  That  I  would,  but  I  do  not  know  how  to  get 
any,"  answered  Dick.  "  If  you  are  willing,  come  along 
with  me,"  said  the  gentleman,  and  took  him  to  a  hay-field, 
where  Dick  worked  briskly,  and  lived  merrily  till  the  hay 
was  made 

After  this  he  found  himself  as  badly  off  as  before ;  and 
being  almost  starved  again,  he  laid  himself  down  at  the 
door  of  Mr.  Fitzwarren,  a  rich  merchant  Here  he  was 
soon  seen  by  the  cook-maid,  who  was  an  ill-tempered 
creature,  and  happened  just  then  to  be  very  busy  dressing 
dinner  for  her  master  and  mistress;  so  she  called  out  to 
poor  Dick :  "  "What  business  have  you  there,  you  lazy  rogue  ? 
there  is  nothing  else  but  beggars ;  if  you  do  not  take  your- 
self away,  we  will  see  how  you  will  like  a  sousing  of  some 
dish-water;  I  have  some  here  hot  enough  to  make  you 
jump." 

Just  at  that  time  Mr.  Fitzwarren  himself  came  home  to 
dinner ;  and  when  he  saw  a  dirty  ragged  boy  lying  at  the 
door,  he  said  to  him :  "  Why  do  you  lay  there,  my  boy  ? 
You  seem  old  enough  to  work ;  I  am  afraid  you  are  inclined 
to  be  lazy." 

"No,  indeed,  sir,"  said  Dick  to  him,  "that  is  not  the 
case,  for  I  would  work  with  all  my  heart,  but  I  do  not  know 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  69 

anybody,  and  I  believe  I  am  very  sick  for  the  want  of  food." 
"  Poor  fellow,  get  up ;  let  me  see  what  ails  you." 

Dick  now  tried  to  rise,  but  was  obliged  to  lie  down  again, 
being  too  weak  to  stand,  for  he  had  not  eaten  any  food  for 
three  days,  and  was  no  longer  able  to  run  about  and  beg  a 
halfpenny  of  people  in  the  street.  So  the  kind  merchant 
ordered  him  to  be  taken  into  the  house,  and  have  a  good 
dinner  given  him,  and  be  kept  to  do  what  dirty  work  he 
was  able  for  the  cook. 

Little  Dick  would  have  lived  very  happy  in  this  good 
family  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  ill-natured  cook,  who  was 
finding  fault  and  scolding  him  from  morning  to  night,  and 
besides,  she  was  so  fond  of  basting,  that  when  she  had  no 
meat  to  baste,  she  would  baste  poor  Dick's  head  and 
shoulders  with  a  broom,  or  anything  else  that  happened  to 
fall  in  her  way.  At  last  her  ill-usage  of  him  was  told  to 
Alice,  Mr.  Fitzwarren's  daughter,  who  told  the  cook  she 
should  be  turned  away  if  she  did  not  treat  him  kinder. 

The  ill-humour  of  the  cook  was  now  a  little  amended ; 
but  besides  this  Dick  had  another  hardship  to  get  over. 
His  bed  stood  in  a  garret,  where  there  were  so  many  holes 
in  the  floor  and  the  walls  that  every  night  he  was  tormented 
with  rats  and  mice.  A  gentleman  having  given  Dick  a 
penny  for  cleaning  his  shoes,  he  thought  he  would  buy  a 
cat  with  it  The  next  day  he  saw  a  girl  with  a  cat,  and 
asked  her  if  she  would  let  him  have  it  for  a  penny.  The 
girl  said  she  would,  and  at  the  same  time  told  him  the  cat 
was  an  excellent  mouser. 

Dick  hid  his  cat  in  the  garret,  and  always  took  care  to 
carry  a  part  of  his  dinner  to  her ;  and  in  a  short  time  he 
had  no  more  trouble  with  the  rats  and  mice,  but  slept  quite 
sound  every  night. 

Soon  after  this,  his  master  had  a  ship  ready  to  sail ;  and 

7 


70  ENGLISH  FOLK 

as  he  thought  it  right  that  all  his  servants  should  have  some 
change  for  good  fortune  as  well  as  himself,  he  called  them 
all  into  the  parlour  and  asked  them  what  they  would  send 
out 

They  all  had  something  that  they  were  willing  to  venture 
except  poor  Dick,  who  had  neither  money  nor  goods,  and 
therefore  could  send  nothing. 

For  this  reason  he  did  not  come  into  the  parlour  with  the 
rest;  but  Miss  Alice  guessed  what  was  the  matter,  and 
ordered  him  to  be  called  in.  She  then  said  she  would  lay 
down  some  money  for  him,  from  her  own  purse ;  but  the 
father  told  her  this  would  not  do,  for  it  must  be  something 
of  his  own. 

When  poor  Dick  heard  this,  he  said  he  had  nothing  but 
a  cat  which  he  bought  for  a  penny  some  time  since  of  a 
little  girl. 

"  Fetch  your  cat  then,  my  good  boy,"  said  Mr.  Fitz- 
warren,  "and  let  her  go." 

Dick  went  upstairs  and  brought  down  poor  puss,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes,  and  gave  her  to  the  captain ;  for  he  said 
he  should  now  be  kept  awake  again  all  night  by  the  rats  and 
mice. 

All  the  company  laughed  at  Dick's  odd  venture  \  and 
Miss  Alice,  who  felt  pity  for  the  poor  boy,  gave  him  some 
money  to  buy  another  cat. 

This,  and  many  other  marks  of  kindness  shown  him  by 
Miss  Alice,  made  the  ill-tempered  cook  jealous  of  poor 
Dick,  and  she  began  to  use  him  more  cruelly  than  ever,  and 
always  made  game  of  him  for  sending  his  cat  to  sea.  She 
asked  him  if  he  thought  his  cat  would  sell  for  as  much 
money  as  would  buy  a  stick  to  beat  him. 

At  last  poor  Dick  could  not  bear  this  usage  any  longer, 
and  he  thought  he  would  run  away  from  his  place ;  so  he 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  71 

packed  up  his  few  things,  and  started  very  early  in  the 
morning,  on  All-hallows  Day,  which  is  the  first  of  November. 
He  walked  as  far  as  Holloway ;  and  there  sat  down  on  a 
stone,  which  to  this  day  is  called  Whittington's  stone,  and 
began  to  think  to  himself  which  road  he  should  take  as  he 
proceeded  onwards. 

While  he  was  thinking  what  he  should  do,  the  Bells  of 
Bow  Church,  which  at  that  time  had  only  six,  began  to  ring, 
and  he  fancied  their  sound  seemed  to  say  to  him  : 

"  Turn  again,  Whittington, 
Lord  Mayor  of  London." 

"  Lord  Mayor  of  London  ! "  said  he  to  himself.  "Why, 
to  be  sure,  I  would  put  up  with  almost  anything  now,  to  be 
Lord  Mayor  of  London,  and  ride  in  a  fine  coach,  when  I 
grow  to  be  a  man  !  Well,  I  will  go  back,  and  think  nothing 
of  the  cuffing  and  scolding  of  the  old  cook,  if  I  am  to  be 
Lord  Mayor  of  London  at  last." 

Dick  went  back,  and  was  lucky  enough  to  get  into  the 
house,  and  set  about  his  work,  before  the  old  cook  came 
downstairs. 

The  ship,  with  the  cat  on  board,  was  a  long  time  at  sea  j 
and  was  at  last  driven  by  the  winds  on  a  part  of  the  coast 
of  Barbary,  where  the  only  people  were  the  Moors,  that  the 
English  had  never  known  before. 

The  people  then  came  in  great  numbers  to  see  the  sailors, 
who  were  of  difierent  colour  to  themselves,  and  treated 
them  very  civilly ;  and,  when  they  became  better  acquainted, 
were  very  eager  to  buy  the  fine  things  that  the  ship  was 
loaded  with. 

When  the  captain  saw  this,  he  sent  patterns  of  the  best 
things  he  had  to  the  king  of  the  country ;  who  was  so  much 
pleased  with  them,  that  he  sent  for  the  captain  to  the  palace. 


72  ENGLISH  FOLK 

Here  they  were  placed,  as  it  is  the  custom  of  the  country, 
on  rich  carpets  marked  with  gold  and  silver  flowers.  The 
king  and  queen  were  seated  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room ; 
and  a  number  of  dishes  were  brought  in  for  dinner.  They 
had  not  sat  long,  when  a  vast  number  of  rats  and  mice 
rushed  in,  helping  themselves  from  almost  every  dish. 
The  captain  wondered  at  this,  and  asked  if  these  vermin 
were  not  very  unpleasant. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  they,  "  very  oflfensive ;  and  the  king 
would  give  half  his  treasure  to  be  freed  of  them,  for  they 
not  only  destroy  his  dinner,  as  you  see,  but  they  assault  him 
in  his  chamber,  and  even  in  bed,  so  that  he  is  obliged  to  be 
watched  while  he  is  sleeping  for  fear  of  them." 

The  captain  jumped  for  joy;  he  remembered  poor 
Whittington  and  his  cat,  and  told  the  king  he  had  a  creature 
on  board  the  ship  that  would  despatch  all  these  vermin 
immediately.  The  king's  heart  heaved  so  high  at  the  joy 
which  this  news  gave  him  that  his  turban  dropped  off  his 
head.  "Bring  this  creature  to  me,"  says  he;  "vermin  are 
dreadful  in  a  court,  and  if  she  will  perform  what  you  say,  I 
will  load  your  ship  with  gold  and  jewels  in  exchange  for  her." 

The  captain,  who  knew  his  business,  took  this  opportunity 
to  set  forth  the  merits  of  Miss  Puss.  He  told  his  majesty 
that  it  would  be  inconvenient  to  part  with  her,  as,  when  she 
was  gone,  the  rats  and  mice  might  destroy  the  goods  in  the 
ship — but  to  oblige  his  majesty  he  would  fetch  her.  "  Run, 
run ! "  said  the  queen ;  "I  am  impatient  to  see  the  dear 
creature." 

Away  went  the  captain  to  the  ship,  while  another  dinner 
was  got  ready.  He  put  puss  under  his  arm,  and  arrived  at 
the  place  soon  enough  to  see  the  table  full  of  rats. 

When  the  cat  saw  them,  she  did  not  wait  for  bidding,  but 
jumped  out  of  the  captain's  arms,  and  in  a  few  minutes  laid 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  73 

almost  all  the  rats  and  mice  dead  at  her  feet.     The  rest  of 
them  in  their  fright  scampered  away  to  their  holes. 

The  king  and  queen  were  quite  charmed  to  get  so  easily 
rid  of  such  plagues,  and  desired  that  the  creature  who  had 
done  them  so  great  a  kindness  might  be  brought  to  them 
for  inspection.  Upon  which  the  captain  called :  "  Pussy, 
pussy,  pussy  ! "  and  she  came  to  him.  He  then  presented 
her  to  the  queen,  who  started  back,  and  was  afraid  to  touch 
a  creature  who  had  made  such  a  havoc  among  the  rats  and 
mice.  However,  when  the  captain  stroked  the  cat  and 
called:  "Pussy, pussy,"  the  queen  also  touched  her  and  cried : 
"Putty,  putty,"  for  she  had  not  learned  English.  He  then 
put  her  down  on  the  queen's  lap,  where  she,  purring,  played 
with  her  majesty's  hand,  and  then  sung  herself  to  sleep. 

The  king,  having  seen  the  exploits  of  Mrs.  Puss,  and 
being  informed  that  she  was  with  young,  and  would  stock 
the  whole  country,  bargained  with  the  captain  for  the  whole 
ship's  cargo,  and  then  gave  him  ten  times  as  much  for  the 
cat  as  all  the  rest  amounted  to. 

The  captain  then  took  leave  of  the  royal  party,  and  set 
sail  with  a  fair  wind  for  England,  and  after  a  happy  voyage 
arrived  safe  in  London. 

One  morning  Mr.  Fitzwarren  had  just  come  to  his 
counting-house  and  seated  himself  at  the  desk,  when 
somebody  came  tap,  tap,  at  the  door.  "  Who's  there  ? " 
says  Mr.  Fitzwarren.  "A  friend,"  answered  the  other;  "I 
come  to  bring  you  good  news  of  your  ship  Unicorn.^'  The 
merchant,  bustling  up  instantly,  opened  the  door,  and  who 
should  be  seen  waiting  but  the  captain  and  factor,  with  a 
cabinet  of  jewels,  and  a  bill  of  lading,  for  which  the 
merchant  lifted  up  his  eyes  and  thanked  heaven  for  sending 
him  such  a  prosperous  voyage. 

They  then  told  the  story  of  the  cat,  and  showed  the  rich 


74  ENGLISH  FOLK 

present  that  the  king  and  queen  had  sent  for  her  to  poor 
Dick.  As  soon  as  the  merchant  heard  this,  he  called  out  to 
his  servants : 

"  Go  fetch  him — we  will  tell  him  of  the  same  ; 
Pray  call  him  Mr.  Whittington  by  name." 

Mr.  Fitzwarren  now  showed  himself  to  be  a  good  man  j 
for  when  some  of  his  servants  said  so  great  a  treasure  was 
too  much  for  him,  he  answered  :  "  God  forbid  I  should 
deprive  him  of  the  value  of  a  single  penny." 

He  then  sent  for  Dick,  who  at  that  time  was  scouring 
pots  for  the  cook,  and  was  quite  dirty. 

Mr.  Fitzwarren  ordered  a  chair  to  be  set  for  him,  and  so 
he  began  to  think  they  were  making  game  of  him,  at  the 
same  time  begging  them  not  to  play  tricks  with  a  pooi 
simple  boy,  but  to  let  him  go  down  again,  if  they  pleased, 
to  his  work. 

"Indeed,  Mr.  Whittington,"  said  the  merchant,  "we  are 
all  quite  in  earnest  with  you,  and  I  most  heartily  rejoice  in 
the  news  these  gentlemen  have  brought  you ;  for  the  captain 
has  sold  your  cat  to  the  King  of  Barbary,  and  brought  you 
in  return  for  her  more  riches  than  I  possess  in  the  whole 
world ;  and  I  wish  you  may  long  enjoy  them ! " 

Mr.  Fitzwarren  then  told  the  men  to  open  the  great  trea- 
sure they  had  brought  with  them ;  and  said  :  "  Mr.  Whitting- 
ton has  nothing  to  do  but  to  put  it  in  some  place  of  safety." 

Poor  Dick  hardly  knew  how  to  behave  himself  for  joy. 
He  begged  his  master  to  take  what  part  of  it  he  pleased, 
since  he  owed  it  all  to  his  kindness.  "  No,  no,"  answered 
Mr.  Fitzwarren,  "this  is  all  your  own;  and  I  have  no 
doubt  but  you  will  use  it  well." 

Dick  next  asked  his  mistress,  and  then  Miss  Alice,  to 
accept  a  part  of  his  good  fortune ;  but  they  would  not,  and 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  75 

at  the  same  time  told  him  they  felt  great  joy  at  his  good 
success.  But  this  poor  fellow  was  too  kind-hearted  to  keep 
it  all  to  himself;  so  he  made  a  present  to  the  captain,  the 
mate,  and  the  rest  of  Mr.  Fitzwarren's  servants ;  and  even 
to  the  ill-natured  old  cook. 

After  this  Mr.  Fitzwarren  advised  him  to  send  for  a 
proper  tradesman  and  get  himself  dressed  like  a  gentleman ; 
and  told  him  he  was  welcome  to  live  in  his  house  till  he 
could  provide  himself  with  a  better. 

When  Whittington's  face  was  washed,  his  hair  curled,  his 
hat  cocked,  and  he  was  dressed  in  a  nice  suit  of  clothes,  he 
was  as  handsome  and  genteel  as  any  young  man  who  visited 
at  Mr.  Fitzwarren's ;  so  that  Miss  Alice,  who  had  once  been 
so  kind  to  him,  and  thought  of  him  with  pity,  now  looked 
upon  him  as  fit  to  be  her  sweetheart ;  and  the  more  so,  no 
doubt,  because  Whittington  was  now  always  thinking  what 
he  could  do  to  oblige  her,  and  making  her  the  prettiest 
presents  that  could  be. 

Mr.  Fitzwarren  soon  saw  their  love  for  each  other,  and 
proposed  to  join  them  in  marriage ;  and  to  this  they  both 
readily  agreed.  A  day  for  the  wedding  was  soon  fixed ; 
and  they  were  attended  to  church  by  the  Lord  Mayor,  the 
court  of  aldermen,  the  sheriflfs,  and  a  great  number  of  the 
richest  merchants  in  London,  whom  they  afterwards  treated 
with  a  very  rich  feast. 

History  tells  us  that  Mr.  Whittington  and  his  lady  lived 
in  great  splendour,  and  were  very  happy.  They  had  several 
children.  He  was  SheriflF  of  London,  also  Mayor,  and 
received  the  honour  of  knighthood  by  Henry  V. 

The  figure  of  Sir  Richard  Whittington  with  his  cat  in  his 
arms,  carved  in  stone,  was  to  be  seen  till  the  year  1780  over 
the  archway  of  the  old  prison  of  Newgate,  that  stood  across 
Newgate  Street 


THE  PEDLAR  OF  SWAFFHAM.1 

Constant  tradition  says  that  there  hved  in  former  times 
in  Soffham  (Swaflfham),  alias  Sopham,  in  Norfolk,  a  certain 
pedlar,  who  dreamed  that  if  he  went  to  London  Bridge, 
and  stood  there,  he  should  hear  very  joyful!  newse,  which  he 
at  first  sleighted,  but  afterwards,  his  dream  being  doubled 
and  trebled  upon  him,  he  resolved  to  try  the  issue  of  it, 
and  accordingly  went  to  London,  and  stood  on  the  bridge 
there  two  or  three  days,  looking  about  him,  but  heard 
nothing  that  might  yield  him  any  comfort  At  last  it 
happened  that  a  shopkeeper  there,  hard  by,  having  noted 
his  fruitless  standing,  seeing  that  he  neither  sold  any  wares 
nor  asked  any  almes,  went  to  him  and  most  earnestly 
begged  to  know  what  he  wanted  there,  or  what  his  business 
was;  to  which  the  pedlar  honestly  answered  that  he  had 
dreamed  that  if  he  came  to  London  and  stood  there  upon 
the  bridge  he  should  hear  good  newse ;  at  which  the  shop- 
keeper laught  heartily,  asking  him  if  he  was  such  a  fool 
as  to  take  a  journey  on  such  a  silly  errand,  adding :  "  I'll 
tell  thee,  country  fellow,  last  night  I  dreamed  that  I  was 
at  Sopham,  in  Norfolk,  a  place  utterly  unknown  to  me, 
where  methought  behind  a  pedlar's  house  in  a  certain 
orchard,  and  under  a  great  oak  tree,  if  I  digged  I  should 
find  a  vast  treasure!  Now  think  you,"  says  he,  "that  I 
am  such  a  fool  to  take  such  a  long  journey  upon  me 

^  Diary  of  Abraham  dela  Pryme,  p.  220,  under  date  10  Nov.  1699. 
(Surtees  Society.) 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES.       77 

upon  the  instigation  of  a  silly  dream  ?  No,  no,  I'm  wiser. 
Therefore,  good  fellow,  learn  wit  from  me,  and  get  you 
home,  and  mind  your  business."  The  pedlar  observing 
his  words,  what  he  had  say'd  he  dream'd,  and  knowing 
they  concentred  in  him,  glad  of  such  joyful!  newse,  went 
speedily  home,  and  digged  and  found  a  prodigious  great 
treasure,  with  which  he  grew  exceeding  rich ;  and  SofFham 
(Church)  being  for  the  most  part  fallen  down,  he  set  on 
workmen  and  rectified  it  most  sumptuously,  at  his  own 
charges ;  and  to  this  day  there  is  his  statue  therein,  but 
in  stone,  with  his  pack  at  his  back  and  his  dogg  at  his 
heels ;  and  his  memory  is  also  preserved  by  the  same  form 
or  picture  in  most  of  the  old  glass  windows,  taverns,  and 
alehouses  of  that  town  unto  this  day. 


THE  LAMBTON  WORM.i 

The  park  and  manor-house  of  Lambton,  belonging  to  a 
family  of  the  same  name,  lie  on  the  banks  of  the  Wear,  tu 
the  north  of  Lumley.  The  family  is  a  very  ancient  one, 
much  older,  it  is  believed,  than  the  twelfth  century,  to 
which  date  its  pedigree  extends.  The  old  castle  was  dis- 
mantled in  1797,  when  a  site  was  adopted  for  the  present 
mansion  on  the  north  bank  of  the  swiftly-flowing  Wear,  in 
a  situation  of  exceeding  beauty.  The  park  also  contains 
the  ruins  of  a  chapel,  called  Brugeford  or  Bridgeford,  close 
to  one  of  the  bridges  which  span  the  Wear. 

Long,  long  ago — some  say  about  the  fourteenth  century — 
the  young  heir  of  Lambton  led  a  careless,  profane  life, 
regardless  alike  of  his  duties  to  God  and  man,  and  in  par- 
ticular neglecting  to  attend  mass,  that  he  might  spend  his 
Sunday  mornings  Jn  fishing.  One  Sunday,  while  thus 
engaged,  having  cast  his  line  into  the  Wear  many  times 
without  success,  he  vented  his  disappointment  in  curses 
loud  and  deep,  to  the  great  scandal  of  the  servants  and 
tenantry  as  they  passed  by  to  the  chapel  at  Brugeford. 

Soon  afterwards  he  felt  something  tugging  at  his  line, 
and  trusting  he  had  at  last  secured  a  fine  fish,  he  exerted 
all  his  skill  and  strength  to  bring  his  prey  to  land.  But 
what  were  his  horror  and  dismay  on  finding  that,  instead  of 
a  fish,  he  had  only  caught  a  worm  of  most  unsightly  appear- 
ance !     He  hastily  tore  the  thing  from  his  hook,  and  flung 

*  Henderson's  Folk- Lore  oftht  Northern  CourUies,  p.  287. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES,       79 

it  into  a  well  close  by,  which  is  still  known  by  the  name  of 
the  Worm  Well. 

The  young  heir  had  scarcely  thrown  his  line  again  into 
the  stream  when  a  stranger  of  venerable  appearance,  pass- 
ing by,  asked  him  what  sport  he  had  met  with ;  to  which 
he  replied  :  "  Why,  truly,  I  think  I  have  caught  the  devil 
himself.  Look  in  and  judge."  The  stranger  looked,  and 
remarked  that  he  had  never  seen  the  like  of  it  before; 
that  it  resembled  an  eft,  only  it  had  nine  holes  on  each 
side  of  its  mouth ;  and,  finally,  that  he  thought  it  boded  no 
good. 

The  worm  remained  unheeded  in  the  well  till  it  outgrew 
so  confined  a  dwelling-place.  It  then  emerged,  and  betook 
itself  by  day  to  the  river,  where  it  lay  coiled  round  a  rock 
in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  and  by  night  to  a  neighbouring 
hill,  round  whose  base  it  would  twine  itself,  while  it  con- 
tinued to  grow  so  fast  that  it  soon  could  encircle  the  hill 
three  times.  This  eminence  is  still  called  the  Worm  Hill. 
It  is  oval  in  shape,  on  the  north  side  of  the  Wear,  and 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  old  Lambton  Hall. 

The  monster  now  became  the  terror  of  the  whole  country 
side.  It  sucked  the  cows'  milk,  worried  the  cattle,  devoured 
the  lambs,  and  committed  every  sort  of  depredation  on  the 
helpless  peasantry.  Having  laid  waste  the  district  on  the 
north  side  of  the  river,  it  crossed  the  stream  and  approached 
Lambton  Hall,  where  the  old  lord  was  living  alone  and 
desolate.  His  son  had  repented  of  his  evil  life,  and  had 
gone  to  the  wars  in  a  distant  country.  Some  authorities 
tell  us  he  had  embarked  as  a  crusader  for  the  Holy  Land. 

On  hearing  of  their  enemy's  approach,  the  terrified  house- 
hold assembled  in  council.  Much  was  said,  but  to  little 
purpose,  till  the  steward,  a  man  of  age  and  experience, 
advised  that  the  large  trough  which  stood  in  the  courtyard 


8o  ENGLISH  FOLK 

should  immediately  be  filled  with  milk.  This  was  done 
without  delay ;  the  monster  approached,  drank  the  milk,  and, 
without  doing  further  harm,  returned  across  the  Wear  to 
wrap  his  giant  form  around  his  favourite  hill.  The  next 
day  he  was  seen  recrossing  the  river  ;  the  trough  was 
hastily  filled  again,  and  with  the  same  results.  It  was 
found  that  the  milk  of  "  nine  kye  "  was  needed  to  fill  the 
trough ;  and  if  this  quantity  was  not  placed  there  every  day, 
regularly  and  in  full  measure,  the  worm  would  break  out 
into  a  violent  rage,  lashing  its  tail  round  the  trees  in  the 
park,  and  tearing  them  up  by  the  roots. 

The  Lambton  Worm  was  now,  in  fact,  the  terror  of  the 
North  Country.  It  had  not  been  left  altogether  unopposed. 
Many  a  gallant  knight  had  come  out  to  fight  with  the  mon- 
ster, but  all  to  no  purpose ;  for  it  possessed  the  marvellous 
power  of  reuniting  itself  after  being  cut  asunder,  and  thus  was 
more  than  a  match  for  the  chivalry  of  the  North.  So,  after 
many  conflicts,  and  much  loss  of  life  and  limb,  the  creature 
was  left  in  possession  of  its  favourite  hilL 

After  seven  long  years,  however,  the  heir  of  Lambton 
returned  home,  a  sadder  and  a  wiser  man — returned  to  find 
the  broad  lands  of  his  ancestors  waste  and  desolate,  his 
people  oppressed  and  well-nigh  exterminated,  his  father 
sinking  into  the  grave  overwhelmed  with  care  and  anxiety. 
He  took  no  rest,  we  are  told,  till  he  had  crossed  the  river 
and  surveyed  the  Worm  as  it  lay  coiled  round  the  foot  of 
the  hill ;  then,  hearing  how  its  former  opponents  had 
failed,  he  took  counsel  in  the  matter  from  a  sibyl  or  wise 
woman. 

At  first  the  sibyl  did  nothing  but  upbraid  him  for  having 
brought  this  scourge  upon  his  house  and  neighbourhood ; 
but  when  she  perceived  that  he  was  indeed  penitent,  and 
desirous  at  any  cost  to  remove  the  evil  he  had  caused,  she 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  8i 

gave  him  her  advice  and  instructions.  He  was  to  get  his 
best  suit  of  mail  studded  thickly  with  spear-heads,  to  put  it 
on,  and  thus  armed  to  take  his  stand  on  the  rock  in  the 
middle  of  the  river,  there  to  meet  his  enemy,  trusting  the 
issue  to  Providence  and  his  good  sword.  But  she  charged 
him  before  going  to  the  encounter  to  take  a  vow  that,  if 
successful,  he  would  slay  the  first  living  thing  that  met  him 
on  his  way  homewards.  Should  he  fail  to  fulfil  this  vow, 
she  warned  him  that  for  nine  generations  no  lord  of 
Lambton  would  die  in  his  bed. 

The  heir,  now  a  belted  knight,  made  the  vow  in  Bruge- 
ford  chapel.  He  studded  his  armour  with  the  sharpest 
spear-heads,  and  unsheathing  his  trusty  sword  took  his 
stand  on  the  rock  in  the  middle  of  the  Wear.  At  the 
accustomed  hour  the  Worm  uncoiled  its  "snaky  twine," 
and  wound  its  way  towards  the  hall,  crossing  the  river  close 
by  the  rock  on  which  the  knight  was  standing  eager  for  the 
combat.  He  struck  a  violent  blow  upon  the  monster's 
head  as  it  passed,  on  which  the  creature,  "irritated  and 
vexed,"  though  apparently  not  injured,  flung  its  tail  round 
him,  as  if  to  strangle  him  in  its  coils. 

In  the  words  of  a  local  poet — 

"  The  worm  shot  down  the  middle  stream 

Like  a  flash  of  living  light, 
And  the  waters  kindled  round  his  path 

In  rainbow  colours  bright. 
But  when  he  saw  the  armed  knight 

He  gathered  all  his  pride. 
And,  coiled  in  many  a  radiant  spire. 

Rode  buoyant  o'er  the  tide. 
When  he  darted  at  length  his  dragon  strength 

An  earthquake  shook  the  rock, 
And  the  fireflakes  bright  fell  round  the  knight 

As  unmoved  he  met  the  shock. 


82       ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

Though  his  heart  was  stout  it  quailed  no  doubt, 

His  very  life-blood  ran  cold, 
As  round  and  round  the  wild  Worm  wound 

In  many  a  grappling  fold. " 

Now  was  seen  the  value  of  the  sibyl's  advice.  The 
closer  the  Worm  wrapped  him  in  its  folds  the  more  deadly 
were  its  self-inflicted  wounds,  till  at  last  the  river  ran  crim- 
son with  its  gore.  Its  strength  thus  diminished,  the  knight 
was  able  at  last  with  his  good  sword  to  cut  the  serpent  in 
two ;  the  severed  part  was  immediately  borne  away  by  the 
swiftness  of  the  current,  and  the  Worm,  unable  to  reunite 
itself,  was  utterly  destroyed. 

During  this  long  and  desperate  conflict  the  household  of 
Lambton  had  shut  themselves  within-doors  to  pray  for  their 
young  lord,  he  having  promised  that  when  it  was  over  he 
would,  if  conqueror,  blow  a  blast  on  his  bugle.  This  would 
assure  his  father  of  his  safety,  and  warn  them  to  let  loose 
the  favourite  hound,  which  they  had  destined  as  the  sacri- 
fice on  the  occasion,  according  to  the  sibyl's  requirements 
and  the  young  lord's  vow.  When,  however,  the  bugle-notes 
were  heard  within  the  hall,  the  old  man  forgot  everything 
but  his  son's  safety,  and  rushing  out  of  doors,  ran  to  meet 
the  hero  and  embrace  him. 

The  heir  of  Lambton  was  thunderstruck ;  what  could  he 
do?  It  was  impossible  to  hft  his  hand  against  his  father; 
yet  how  else  to  fulfil  his  vow  ?  In  his  perplexity  he  blew 
another  blast ;  the  hound  was  let  loose,  it  bounded  to  its 
master ;  the  sword,  yet  reeking  with  the  monster's  gore,  was 
plunged  into  its  heart;  but  all  in  vain.  The  vow  was 
broken,  the  sibyl's  prediction  fulfilled,  and  the  curse  lay 
upon  the  house  of  Lambton  for  nine  generations. 


BOMERE  P00L.1 


Many  years  ago  a  village  stood  in  the  hollow  which  is  now 
filled  up  by  the  mere.  But  the  inhabitants  were  a  wicked 
race,  who  mocked  at  God  and  His  priest.  They  turned 
back  to  tlie  idolatrous  practices  of  their  fathers,  and  wor- 
shipped Thor  and  Woden  ;  they  scorned  to  bend  the  knee, 
save  in  mockery,  to  the  White  Christ  who  had  died  to  save 
their  souls.  The  old  priest  earnestly  warned  them  that  God 
would  punish  such  wickedness  as  theirs  by  some  sudden 
judgment,  but  they  laughed  him  to  scorn.  They  fastened 
fish-bones  to  the  skirt  of  his  cassock,  and  set  the  children  to 
pelt  him  with  mud  and  stones.  The  holy  man  was  not 
dismayed  at  this ;  nay,  he  renewed  his  entreaties  and  warn- 
ings, so  that  some  few  turned  from  their  evil  ways  and 
worshipped  with  him  in  the  little  chapel  which  stood  on  the 
bank  of  a  rivulet  that  flowed  down  from  the  mere  on  the 
hill-side. 

The  rains  fell  that  December  in  immense  quantities. 
The  mere  was  swollen  beyond  its  usual  limits,  and  all  the 
hollows  in  the  hills  were  filled  to  overflowing.  One  day 
when  the  old  priest  was  on  the  hill-side  gathering  fuel  he 
noticed  that  the  barrier  of  peat,  earth,  and  stones,  which 
prevented  the  mere  from  flowing  into  the  valley,  was 
apparently  giving  way  before  the  mass  of  water  above.  He 
hurried  down  to  the  village  and  besought  the  men  to  come 
up  and  cut  a  channel  for  the  discharge  of  the  superfluous 

^  Miss  C.  S.  Burne,  Shropshire  Folk-Lore,  p.  64. 


84      ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  V  TALES. 

waters  of  the  mere.  They  only  greeted  his  proposal  with 
shouts  of  derision,  and  told  him  to  go  and  mind  his  prayers, 
and  not  spoil  their  feast  with  his  croaking  and  his  kill-joy 
presence. 

These  heathen  were  then  keeping  their  winter  festival 
with  great  revelry.  It  fell  on  Christmas  Eve.  The  same 
night  the  aged  priest  summoned  his  few  faithful  ones  to 
attend  at  the  midnight  mass,  which  ushered  in  the  feast  of 
our  Saviour's  Nativity.  The  night  was  stormy,  and  the  rain 
fell  in  torrents,  yet  this  did  not  prevent  the  Uttle  flock  from 
coming  to  the  chapel.  The  old  servant  of  God  had  already 
begun  the  holy  sacrifice,  when  a  roar  was  heard  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  valley.  The  server  was  just  ringing  the  Sanctus 
bell  which  hung  in  the  bell-cot,  when  a  flood  of  water  dashed 
into  the  church,  and  rapidly  rose  till  it  put  out  the  altar- 
lights.  In  a  few  moments  more  the  whole  building  was 
washed  away,  and  the  mere,  which  had  burst  its  mountain 
barrier,  occupied  the  hollow  in  which  the  village  had  stood. 
Men  say  that  if  you  sail  over  the  mere  on  Christmas  Eve, 
just  after  midnight,  you  may  hear  the  Sanctus  bell  tolling. 


GIANTS. 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  WREKIN.i 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  wicked  old  giant  in  Wales 
who,  for  some  reason  or  other,  had  a  very  great  spite  against 
the  Mayor  of  Shrewsbury  and  all  his  people,  and  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  dam  up  the  Severn,  and  by  that  means  cause 
such  a  flood  that  the  town  would  be  drowned. 

So  off  he  set,  carrying  a  spadeful  of  earth,  and  tramped 
along  mile  after  mile  trying  to  find  the  way  to  Shrewsbury. 
And  how  he  missed  it  I  cannot  tell,  but  he  must  have  gone 
wrong  somewhere,  for  at  last  he  got  close  to  Wellington,  and 
by  that  time  he  was  puffing  and  blowing  under  his  heavy 
load,  and  wishing  he  was  at  the  end  of  his  journey.  By- 
and-by  there  came  a  cobbler  along  the  road  with  a  sack  of 
old  boots  and  shoes  on  his  back,  for  he  lived  at  Wellington, 
and  went  once  a  fortnight  to  Shrewsbury  to  collect  his 
customers'  old  boots  and  shoes,  and  take  them  home  with 
him  to  mend.  And  the  giant  called  out  to  him.  "  I  say," 
he  said,  "how  far  is  it  to  Shrewsbury?"  "Shrewsbury," 
said  the  cobbler;  "what  do  you  want  at  Shrewsbury?" 
"Why,"  said  the  giant,  "to  fill  up  the  Severn  with  this 
lump  of  earth  I've  got  here.  I've  an  old  grudge  against  the 
Mayor  and  the  folks  at  Shrewsbury,  and  now  1  mean  to 
drown  them  out,  and  get  rid  of  them  all  at  once."  "My 
^  Miss  C.  S.  Burne,  Shropshire  Folk-lore.,  p.  2. 


86      ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

word!"  thought  the  cobbler,  "thisll  never  do!  I  cnn't 
afford  to  lose  my  customers ! "  and  he  spoke  up  again. 
"Eh!"  he  said,  "you'll  never  get  to  Shrewsbury — not 
to-day,  nor  to-morrow.  Why,  look  at  me !  I'm  just  come 
from  Shrewsbur)',  and  I've  had  time  to  wear  out  all  these 
old  boots  and  shoes  on  the  road  since  I  started."  And  he 
showed  him  his  sack.  **  Oh  !  "  said  the  giant,  with  a  great 
groan,  "then  it's  no  use!  I'm  fairly  tired  out  already,  and 
I  can't  carry  this  load  of  mine  any  farther.  I  shall  just 
drop  it  here  and  go  back  home."  So  he  dropped  the  earth 
on  the  ground  just  where  he  stood,  and  scraped  his  boots 
on  the  spade,  and  off  he  went  home  again  to  Wales,  and 
nobody  ever  heard  anything  of  him  in  Shropshire  after. 
But  where  he  put  down  his  load  there  stands  the  Wrekin  to 
this  day ;  and  even  the  earth  he  scraped  off  his  boots  was 
such  a  pile  that  it  made  the  little  Ercall  by  the  Wrekin's 
side. 


THE  BLINDED  GIANT.i 

At  Dalton,  near  Thirsk,  in  Yorkshire,  is  a  mill  It  has 
quite  recently  been  rebuilt ;  but  when  I  was  at  Dalton,  six 
years  ago,  the  old  building  stood.  In  front  of  the  house 
was  a  long  mound,  which  went  by  the  name  of  "the  giant's 
grave,"  and  in  the  mill  was  shown  a  long  blade  of  iron 
something  like  a  scythe-blade,  but  not  curved,  which  was 
said  to  have  been  the  giant's  knife.  A  curious  story  was 
told  of  this  knife.  There  lived  a  giant  at  this  mill,  and  he 
ground  men's  bones  to  make  his  bread.  One  day  he  cap- 
tured a  lad  on  Pilmoor,  and  instead  of  grinding  him  in  the 
mill  he  kept  him  as  his  servant,  and  never  let  him  get  away. 
Jack  served  the  giant  many  years,  and  never  was  allowed  a 
holiday.  At  last  he  could  bear  it  no  longer.  Topcliffe 
fair  was  coming  on,  and  the  lad  entreated  that  he  might  be 
allowed  to  go  there  to  see  the  lasses  and  buy  some  spice. 
The  giant  surlily  refused  leave :  Jack  resolved  to  take  it 

The  day  was  hot,  and  after  dinner  the  giant  lay  down  in 
the  mill  with  his  head  on  a  sack  and  dozed.  He  had  been 
eating  in  the  mill,  and  had  laid  down  a  great  loaf  of  bone 
bread  by  his  side,  and  the  knife  was  in  his  hand,  but  his 
fingers  relaxed  their  hold  of  it  in  sleep.  Jack  seized  the 
moment,  drew  the  knife  away,  and  holding  it  with  both  his 
hands  drove  the  blade  into  the  single  eye  of  the  giant,  who 
woke  with  a  howl  of  agony,  and  starting  up  barred  the  door. 

^  Henderson,  Notes  on  the  Folk-Lore  of  the  Northern  Counties  of 
England  and  the  Borders,  p.  195. 


88       ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

Jack  was  again  in  difficulties,  but  he  soon  found  a  way  out 
of  them.  The  giant  had  a  favourite  dog,  which  had  also 
been  sleeping  when  his  master  was  blinded.  Jack  killed 
the  dog,  skinned  it,  and  throwing  the  hide  over  his  back 
ran  on  all-fours  barking  between  the  legs  of  the  giant,  and 
so  escaped. 


FAIRIES. 


WORCESTERSHIRE  FAIRIES.^ 

According  to  tradition,  that  interesting  headland  called 
Oseberrow,  or  Osebury  {vulgo  Rosebury)  Rock,  which  lies 
not  far  from  Alfrick,  and  is  situated  upon  the  border  of  the 
river  Teme,  in  Lulsley,  opposite  to  Knightsford  Bridge, 
was  a  favourite  haunt  of  the  fairies  {vulgo  pharises).  It  is 
said  they  had  a  cave  there  (which  is  still  shown) ;  and  that 
once  upon  a  time,  as  a  man  and  boy  were  ploughing  in  an 
adjoining  field,  they  heard  an  outcry  in  the  copse  on  the 
steep  declivity  of  the  rock;  and  upon  their  going  to  see 
what  was  the  matter,  they  came  up  to  a  fairy,  who  was 
exclaiming  that  he  had  lost  his  pick,  or  pick-axe.  This,  after 
much  search,  the  ploughman  found  for  him ;  and  there- 
upon the  fairy  said  if  they  would  go  to  a  certain  corner  of 
the  field  wherein  they  had  been  ploughing,  they  would  get 
their  reward.  They  accordingly  went,  and  found  plenty  of 
bread  and  cheese,  and  cider,  on  which  the  man  feasted 
heartily;  but  the  boy  was  so  much  frightened  that  he  would 
not  partake  of  the  repast. 

It  also  is  said  that  upon  another  occasion  a  fairy  came 
to  a  ploughman  in  the  same  field,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh,  lend  a  hammer  and  a  nail, 
Which  we  want  to  mend  our  pail." 

'  Jabez  Allies,  On  the  Antiquities  and  Folk-Lore  of  WorcesUrshire^ 
p.  418. 


go       ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

There  likewise  is  a  saying  in  the  neighbourhood,  that  if  a 
woman  should  break  her  peel  (a  kind  of  shovel  used  in 
baking  bread),  and  should  leave  it  for  a  little  while  at  the 
fairies'  cave  in  Osebury  Rock,  it  would  be  mended  for  her. 

In  days  of  yore,  when  the  church  at  Inkberrow  was  taken 
down  and  rebuilt  upon  a  new  site,  the  fairies,  whose  haunt 
was  near  the  latter  place,  took  offence  at  the  change,  and 
endeavoured  to  obstruct  the  building  by  carrying  back  the 
materials  in  the  night  to  the  old  locality.  At  length, 
however,  the  church  was  triumphant,  but  for  many  a  day 
afterwards  the  following  lament  is  said  to  have  been 
occasionally  heard : 

"  Neither  sleep,  neither  lie, 
For  Inkbro's  ting-tang  hangs  so  high." 

The  church  is  a  large  and  handsome  edifice,  of  mixed 
styles  of  architecture.  It  is  supposed  to  have  been  built 
about  five  centuries  ago,  but  has  undergone  much  alteration. 

As  a  countryman  was  one  day  working  in  a  field  in 
Upton  Snodsbury,  he  all  of  a  sudden  heard  a  great  outcry 
in  a  neighbouring  piece  of  ground,  which  was  followed  by  a 
low,  mournful  voice,  saying :  "  I  have  broke  my  bilk,  I  have 
broke  my  bilk;"  and  thereupon  the  man  picked  up  the 
hammer  and  nails  which  he  had  with  him,  and  ran  to  the 
spot  from  whence  the  outcry  came,  where  he  found  a  fairy 
lamenting  over  his  broken  bilk,  which  was  a  kind  of  cross- 
barred  seat;  this  the  man  soon  mended,  and  the  fairy,  to 
make  him  amends  for  his  pains  danced  round  him  till  he 
wound  him  down  into  a  cave,  where  he  was  treated  with 
plenty  of  biscuits  and  wine ;  and  it  is  said  that  from  thence- 
forward that  man  always  did  well  in  life. 


THE  FAIRY'S  MIDWIFE.i 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was,  in  this  celebrated  town,  a 
Dame  Somebody.  I  do  not  know  her  name.  All  I  with 
truth  can  say  is  that  she  was  old,  and  nothing  the  worse  for 
that ;  for  age  is,  or  ought  to  be,  held  in  honour  as  the  source 
of  wisdom  and  experience.  Now  this  good  old  woman 
lived  not  in  vain,  for  she  had  passed  her  days  in  the  useful 
capacity  of  a  nurse ;  and  as  she  approached  the  term  of 
going  out  of  the  world  herself,  she  was  still  useful  in  her 
generation  by  helping  others  into  it — she  was  in  fact  the 
Sage-femme  of  the  village. 

One  night  about  twelve  o'clock  in  the  morning,  as  the 
good  folks  say  who  tell  the  tale.  Dame  Somebody  had  just 
got  comfortably  into  bed,  when  rap,  rap,  rap,  came  on  her 
cottage  door,  with  such  bold,  loud,  and  continued  noise, 
that  there  was  a  sound  of  authority  in  every  individual 
knock.  Startled  and  alarmed  by  the  call,  she  arose,  and 
soon  learnt  that  the  summons  was  a  hasty  one  to  bid  her 
attend  on  a  patient  who  needed  her  help.  She  opened  her 
door;  when  the  summoner  appeared  to  be  a  strange, 
squint-eyed,  little,  ugly,  old  fellow,  who  had  a  look,  as  she 
said,  very  like  a  certain  dark  personage,  who  ought  not  at 
all  times  to  be  called  by  his  proper  name.  Not  at  all 
prepossessed  in  favour  of  the  errand  by  the  visage  of  the 
messenger,  she  nevertheless  could  not,  or  dared  not,  resist 

^  Mrs.  Bray,  The  Borders  of  the  Tamar  and  Iht  Tavy,  voL  i. 
p.  174. 


92  ENGLISH  FOLK 

the  command  to  follow  him  straight  and  attend  upon  "  his 
wife." 

"  Thy  wife !  "  thought  the  good  dame :  "  Heaven  forgive 
me ;  but  as  sure  as  I  live  I  be  going  to  the  birth  of  a  little 
divel."  A  large  coal-black  horse,  with  eyes  like  balls  of 
fire,  stood  at  the  door.  The  ill-looking  old  fellow,  without 
more  ado,  whisked  her  up  on  a  high  pillion  in  a  minute, 
seated  himself  before  her,  and  away  went  horse  and  riders, 
as  if  sailing  through  the  air  rather  than  trotting  on  the 
ground.  How  Dame  Somebody  got  to  the  place  of  her 
destination  she  could  not  tell ;  but  it  was  a  great  relief  to 
her  fears  when  she  found  herself  set  down  at  the  door  of 
a  neat  cottage,  saw  a  couple  of  tidy  children,  and  remarked 
her  patient  to  be  a  decent-looking  woman,  having  all  things 
about  her  fitting  the  time  and  the  occasion. 

A  fine  bouncing  babe  soon  made  its  appearance,  and 
seemed  very  bold  on  its  entry  into  life,  for  it  gave  the  good 
dame  a  box  on  the  ear,  as,  with  the  coaxing  and  cajolery  of 
all  good  old  nurses,  she  declared  the  "  sweet  little  thing  to 
be  very  like  its  father."  The  mother  said  nothing  to  this, 
but  gave  nurse  a  certain  ointment  with  directions  that  she 
should  "strike  the  child's  eyes  with  it."  Now  you  must 
know  that  this  word  "  strike,"  in  our  Devonshire  vocabulary, 
does  not  exactly  mean  to  give  a  blow,  but  rather  what  is 
opposite,  to  "  rub,  smooth  down,  or  touch  gently."  The 
nurse  performed  her  task,  though  she  thought  it  an  odd 
one ;  and  as  it  is  nothing  new  that  old  nurses  are  generally 
very  curious,  she  wondered  what  it  could  be  for;  and 
thought  that,  as  no  doubt  it  was  a  good  thing,  she  might 
just  as  well  try  it  upon  her  own  eyes  as  those  of  the  baby, 
so  she  made  free  to  strike  one  of  them  by  way  of  trial ; 
when,  oh  ye  powers  of  fairyland,  what  a  change  was 
there  1     The  neat  but  homely  cottage,  and  all  who  were 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  93 

in  it,  seemed  all  on  a  sudden  to  undergo  a  mighty 
transformation,  some  for  the  better,  some  for  the  worse. 
The  new-made  mother  appeared  as  a  beautiful  lady  attired 
in  white ;  the  babe  was  seen  wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes 
of  a  silvery  gauze.  It  looked  much  prettier  than  before, 
but  still  maintained  the  elfish  cast  of  the  eye,  Uke  its 
redoubted  father  j  whilst  two  or  three  children  more  had 
undergone  a  metamorphosis  as  uncouth  as  that  recorded  by 
Ovid  when  the  Cercopians  were  transformed  into  apes. 
For  there  sat  on  either  side  of  the  bed's  head  a  couple  of 
little  flat-nosed  imps,  who  with  "mops  and  mows,"  and 
with  many  a  grimace  and  grin,  were  "busied  to  no  end"  in 
scratching  their  own  polls,  or  in  pulling  the  fairy  lady's  ears 
with  their  long  and  hairy  paws.  The  dame,  who  beheld  all 
this,  fearing  she  knew  not  what  in  the  house  of  enchant- 
ment, got  away  as  fast  as  she  could  without  saying  one  word 
about  "  striking  "  her  own  eye  with  the  magic  ointment,  and 
what  she  had  beheld  in  consequence  of  doing  so.  The 
sour-looking  old  fellow  once  more  handed  her  up  on  the 
coal-black  horse,  and  sent  her  home  in  a  whip-sissa.  Now 
what  a  whip-sissa  means  is  more  than  I  can  tell,  though  I 
consider  myself  to  be  tolerably  well  acquainted  with  the 
tongues  of  this  "  West  Countrie."  It  may  mean  perhaps, 
"Whip,  says  he,"  in  allusion  to  some  gentle  intimation 
being  feelingly  given  by  the  rider  to  the  horse's  sides  with  a 
switch,  that  he  should  use  the  utmost  despatch.  Certain  it 
is,  the  old  woman  returned  home  much  faster  than  she 
went.  But  mark  the  event.  On  the  next  market-day,  when 
she  sallied  forth  to  sell  her  eggs,  whom  should  she  see  but 
the  same  wicked-looking  old  fellow,  busied,  like  a  rogue  as 
he  was,  in  pilfering  sundry  articles  from  stall  to  stall.  "  Oh! 
oh !"  thought  the  dame,  "have  I  caught  you,  you  old  thief? 
But  I'll  let  you  see  I  could  set  Master  Mayor  and  the  two 


94      ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

town  constables  on  your  back,  if  I  chose  to  be  telling."  So 
up  she  went,  and  with  that  bold,  free  sort  of  air  which 
persons  who  have  learnt  secrets  that  ought  not  to  be  known 
are  apt  to  assume  when  they  address  any  great  rogue 
hitherto  considered  as  a  superior,  she  inquired  carelessly 
after  his  wife  and  child,  and  hoped  both  were  as  well  as 
could  be  expected. 

"  What  1 "  exclaimed  the  old  pixy  thief,  "  do  you  see  me 
to-day?" 

"  See  you !  to  be  sure  I  do,  as  plain  as  I  see  the  sun  in 
the  skies;  and  I  see  you  are  busy  into  the  bargain." 

"  Do  you  so  ?  "  cried  he.  *'  Pray  with  which  eye  do  you 
see  all  this  ?  " 

"With  the  right  eye,  to  be  sure." 

"  The  ointment !  the  ointment  I "  exclaimed  the  old 
fellow.  "  Take  that  for  meddling  with  what  did  not  belong 
to  you — you  shall  see  me  no  more," 

He  struck  her  eye  as  he  spoke,  and  from  that  hour  till 
the  day  of  her  death  she  was  blind  on  the  right  side,  thus 
dearly  paying  for  having  gratified  an  idle  curiosity  in  the 
house  of  a  pixy. 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  CHERRY  OF  ZENNOR.1 


Old  Honey  lived  with  his  wife  and  family  in  a  little 
hut  of  two  rooms  and  a  "talfat,"^  on  the  cliff  side  of 
Trereen  in  2^nnor.  The  old  couple  had  half  a  score 
of  children,  who  were  all  reared  in  this  place.  They 
lived  as  they  best  could  on  the  produce  of  a  few  acres  of 
ground,  which  were  too  poor  to  keep  even  a  goat  in  good 
heart.  The  heaps  of  crogans  (limpet  shells)  about  the  hut 
led  one  to  believe  that  their  chief  food  was  limpets  and 
gweans  (periwinkles).  They  had,  however,  fish  and  pota- 
toes most  days,  and  pork  and  broth  now  and  then  of  a 
Sunday.  At  Christmas  and  the  Feast  they  had  white 
bread.  There  was  not  a  healthier  nor  a  handsomer  family 
in  the  parish  than  Old  Honey's.  We  are,  however,  only 
concerned  with  one  of  them,  his  daughter  Cherry.  Cherry 
could  run  as  fast  as  a  hare,  and  was  ever  full  of  frolic  and 
mischiet 

Whenever  the  miller's  boy  came  into  the  "  town,"  tied  his 
horse  to  the  furze  rick,  and  called  in  to  see  if  any  one 
desired  to  send  corn  to  the  mill,  Cherry  would  jump  on  to 
its  back  and  gallop  off  to  the  cliff.  When  the  miller's  boy 
gave  chase,  and  she  could  ride  no  further  over  the  edge  of 
that  rocky  coast    she  would  take  to  the  cairns,  and  the 

^  Robert  Hunt,  Popular  Romances  of  the  West  of  England,  ist 
series,  p.  11 8. 

'  Talfat  is  a  half  floor  at  one  end  of  a  cottage  on  which  a  bed  is 
placed. 


96  ENGLISH  FOLK 

swiftest  dog  could  not  catch  her,  much  less  the  miller's 
boy. 

Soon  after  Cherry  got  into  her  teens  she  became  very 
discontented,  because  year  after  year  her  mother  had  been 
promising  her  a  new  frock  that  she  might  go  off  as  smart  as 
the  rest,  "three  on  one  horse  to  Morva  fair."^  As  certain 
as  the  time  came  round  the  money  was  wantmg,  so  Cherry 
had  nothing  decent  She  could  neither  go  to  fair,  nor  to 
church,  nor  to  meeting. 

Cherry  was  sixteen.  One  of  her  playmates  had  a  new 
dress  smartly  trimmed  with  ribbons,  and  she  told  Cherry 
how  she  had  been  to  Nancledry  to  the  preaching,  and 
how  she  had  ever  so  many  sweethearts  who  brought  her 
home.  This  put  the  volatile  Cherry  in  a  fever  of  desire. 
She  declared  to  her  mother  she  would  go  off  to  the  "  low 
countries "  ^  to  seek  for  service,  that  she  might  get  some 
clothes  like  other  girls. 

Her  mother  wished  her  to  go  to  Towednack  that  she 
might  have  the  chance  of  seeing  her  now  and  then  of  a 
Sunday. 

"  No,  no  ! "  said  Cherry,  •'  I'll  never  go  to  live  in  the 
parish  where  the  cow  ate  the  bell-rope,  and  where  they  have 
fish  and  taties  (potatoes)  every  day,  and  conger-pie  of  a 
Sunday,  for  a  change." 

One  fine  morning  Cherry  tied  up  a  few  things  in  a  bundle 
and  prepared  to  start.  She  promised  her  father  that  she 
would  get  service  as  near  home  as  she  could,  and  come 
home  at  the  earliest  opportunity.  The  old  man  said  she 
was  bewitched,  charged  her  to  take  care  she  wasn't  carried 

^  A  Cornish  proverb. 

*  The  terms  "high"  and  "low  countries"  are  appHed  respectively 
to  the  hills  and  the  valleys  of  the  country  about  Towednack  and 
Zennor. 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  97 

away  by  either  the  sailors  or  pirates,  and  allowed  her  to 
depart.  Cherry  took  the  road  leading  to  Ludgvan  and 
GulvaL  When  she  lost  sight  of  the  chimneys  of  Trereen, 
she  got  out  of  heart  and  had  a  great  mind  to  go  home 
again.     But  she  went  on. 

At  length  she  came  to  the  "four  cross  roads"  on  the 
Lady  Downs,  sat  herself  down  on  a  stone  by  the  road-side, 
and  cried  to  think  of  her  home,  which  she  might  never  see 
again. 

Her  crying  at  last  came  to  an  end,  and  she  resolved  to 
go  home  and  make  the  best  of  it 

When  she  dried  her  eyes  and  held  up  her  head  she  was 
surprised  to  see  a  gentleman  coming  towards  her ;  for  she 
couldn't  think  where  he  came  from ;  no  one  was  to  be  seen 
on  the  Downs  a  few  minutes  before. 

The  gentleman  wished  her  "  good  morning,"  inquired  the 
road  to  Towednack,  and  asked  Cherry  where  she  was  going. 

Cherry  told  the  gentleman  that  she  had  left  home  that 
morning  to  look  for  service,  but  that  her  heart  had  failed 
her,  and  she  was  going  back  over  the  hills  to  Zennor  again. 

"  I  never  expected  to  meet  with  such  luck  as  this,"  said 
the  gentleman.  "  I  left  home  this  morning  to  seek  for  a 
nice  clean  girl  to  keep  house  for  me,  and  here  you  are." 

He  then  told  Cherry  that  he  had  been  recently  left  a 
widower,  and  that  he  had  one  dear  little  boy,  of  whom 
Cherry  might  have  charge.  Cherry  was  the  very  girl  that 
would  suit  him.  She  was  handsome  and  cleanly.  He 
could  see  that  her  clothes  were  so  mended  that  the  first 
piece  could  not  be  discovered ;  yet  she  was  as  sweet  as  a 
rose,  and  all  the  water  in  the  sea  could  not  make  her 
cleaner.  Poor  Cherry  said  "  Yes,  sir,"  to  everything,  yet 
she  did  not  understand  one  quarter  part  of  what  the 
gentleman  said.      Her  mother  had  instructed  her  to  say 


98  ENGLISH  FOLK 

"Yes,  sir,"  to  the  parson,  or  any  gentleman,  when,  like 
herself,  she  did  not  understand  them.  The  gentleman  told 
her  he  lived  but  a  short  way  o%  down  in  the  low  countries ; 
that  she  would  have  very  little  to  do  but  milk  the  cow  and 
look  after  the  baby ;  so  Cherry  consented  to  go  with  him. 

Away  they  went ;  he  talking  so  kindly  that  Cherry  had 
no  notion  how  time  was  moving,  and  she  quite  forgot  the 
distance  she  had  walked. 

At  length  they  were  in  lanes,  so  shaded  with  trees  that  a 
checker  of  sunshine  scarcely  gleamed  on  the  road.  As  far 
as  she  could  see,  all  was  trees  and  flowers.  Sweet  briars 
and  honeysuckles  perfumed  the  air,  and  the  reddest  of  ripe 
apples  hung  from  the  trees  over  the  lane. 

Then  they  came  to  a  stream  of  water  as  clear  as  crystal, 
which  ran  across  the  lane.  It  was,  however,  very  dark,  and 
Cherry  paused  to  see  how  she  should  cross  the  river.  The 
gentleman  put  his  arm  around  her  waist  and  carried  her 
over,  so  that  she  did  not  wet  her  feet. 

The  lane  was  getting  darker  and  darker,  and  narrower 
and  narrower,  and  they  seemed  to  be  going  rapidly  down 
hill.  Cherry  took  firm  hold  of  the  gentleman's  arm,  and 
thought,  as  he  had  been  so  kind  to  her,  she  could  go  with 
him  to  the  world's  end. 

After  walking  a  little  further,  the  gentleman  opened  a 
gate  which  led  into  a  beautiful  garden,  and  said:  "Cherry, 
my  dear,  this  is  the  place  we  live  in." 

Cherry  could  scarcely  believe  her  eyes.  She  had  never 
seen  anything  approaching  this  place  for  beauty.  Flowers 
of  every  dye  were  around  her;  fruits  of  all  kinds  hung 
above  her  \  and  the  birds,  sweeter  of  song  than  any  she  had 
ever  heard,  burst  out  into  a  chorus  of  rejoicing.  She  had 
heard  granny  tell  of  enchanted  places.  Could  this  be  one 
of  them  ?    No.     The  gentleman  was  as  big  as  the  parson ; 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  99 

and  now  a  little  boy  came  running  down  the  garden  walk 
shouting  :  "  Papa,  papa," 

The  child  appeared,  from  his  size,  to  be  about  two  or 
three  years  of  age ;  but  there  was  a  singular  look  of  age 
about  him.  His  eyes  were  brilliant  and  piercing,  and  he 
had  a  crafty  expression.  As  Cherry  said,  "  He  could  look 
anybody  down." 

Before  Cherry  could  speak  to  the  child,  a  very  old  dry- 
boned,  ugly-looking  woman  made  her  appearance,  and 
seizing  the  child  by  the  arm,  dragged  him  into  the  house, 
mumbling  and  scolding.  Before,  however,  she  was  lost 
sight  of,  the  old  hag  cast  one  look  at  Cherry,  which  shot 
through  her  heart  "like  a  gimblet." 

Seeing  Cherry  somewhat  disconcerted,  the  master  ex- 
plained that  the  old  woman  was  his  late  wife's  grandmother : 
that  she  would  remain  with  them  until  Cherry  knew  her 
work,  and  no  longer,  for  she  was  old  and  ill-tempered,  and 
must  go.  At  length,  having  feasted  her  eyes  on  the  garden, 
Cherry  was  taken  into  the  house,  and  this  was  yet  more 
beautiful  Flowers  of  every  kind  grew  everywhere,  and  the 
sun  seemed  to  shine  everywhere,  and  yet  she  did  not  see 
the  sun. 

Aunt  Prudence — so  was  the  old  woman  named — spread 
a  table  in  a  moment  with  a  great  variety  of  nice  things,  and 
Cherry  made  a  hearty  supper.  She  was  now  directed  to  go 
to  bed,  in  a  chamber  at  the  top  of  the  house,  in  which  the 
child  was  to  sleep  also.  Prudence  directed  Cherry  to  keep 
her  eyes  closed,  whether  she  could  sleep  or  not,  as  she 
might,  perchance,  see  things  which  she  would  not  like. 
She  was  not  to  speak  to  the  child  all  night.  She  was  to 
rise  at  break  of  day ;  then  take  the  boy  to  a  spring  in  the 
garden,  wash  him,  and  anoint  his  eyes  with  an  ointment, 
which  she  would  find  in  a  crystal  box  in  a  cleft  of  the  rock. 


too  ENGLISH  FOLK 

but  she  was  not  on  any  account  to  touch  her  own  eyes 
with  it.  Then  Cherry  was  to  call  the  cow ;  and  having 
taken  a  bucket  full  of  milk,  to  draw  a  bowl  of  the  last  milk 
for  the  boy's  breakfast.  Cherry  was  dying  with  curiosity. 
She  several  times  began  to  question'  the  child,  but  he  always 
stopped  her  with :  "  I'll  tell  Aunt  Prudence."  According  to 
her  orders,  Cherry  was  up  in  the  morning  early.  The 
little  boy  conducted  the  girl  to  the  spring,  which  flowed  in 
crystal  purity  from  a  granite  rock,  which  was  covered  with 
ivy  and  beautiful  mosses.  The  child  was  duly  washed,  and 
his  eyes  duly  anointed.  Cherry  saw  no  cow,  but  her  little 
charge  said  she  must  call  the  cow. 

"  Pruit !  pruit !  pruit ! "  called  Cherry,  just  as  she  would 
call  the  cows  at  home;  when,  lo!  a  beautiful  great  cow 
came  from  amongst  the  trees,  and  stood  on  the  bank  beside 
Cherry. 

Cherry  had  no  sooner  placed  her  hands  on  the  cow's  teats 
than  four  streams  of  milk  flowed  down  and  soon  filled  the 
bucket.  The  boy's  bowl  was  then  filled,  and  he  drank  it. 
This  being  done,  the  cow  quietly  walked  away,  and  Cherry 
returned  to  the  house  to  be  instructed  in  her  daily 
work. 

The  old  woman,  Prudence,  gave  Cherry  a  capital  break- 
fast, and  then  informed  her  that  she  must  keep  to  the 
kitchen,  and  attend  to  her  work  there — to  scald  the  milk, 
make  the  butter,  and  clean  all  the  platters  and  bowls  with 
water  and  gard  (gravel  sand).  Cherry  was  charged  to 
avoid  curiosity.  She  was  not  to  go  into  any  other  part  of 
the  house ;  she  was  not  to  try  and  open  any  locked  doors. 

After  her  ordinary  work  was  done  on  the  second  day,  her 
master  required  Cherry  to  help  him  in  the  garden,  to  pick 
the  apples  and  pears,  and  to  weed  the  leeks  and  onions. 

Glad  was  Cherry  to  get  out  of  the  old  woman's  sight. 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  loi 

Aunt  Prudence  always  sat  with  one  eye  on  her  knitting,  and 
the  other  boring  through  poor  Cherry.  Now  and  then  she'd 
grumble :  "  I  knew  Robin  would  bring  down  some  fool  from 
Zennor — better  for  both  that  she  had  tarried  away." 

Cherry  and  her  master  got  on  famously,  and  whenever 
Cherry  had  finished  weeding  a  bed,  her  master  would  give 
her  a  kiss  to  show  her  how  pleased  he  was. 

After  a  few  days,  old  Aunt  Prudence  took  Cherry  into 
those  parts  of  the  house  which  she  had  never  seen.  They 
passed  through  a  long  dark  passage.  Cherry  was  then  made 
to  take  off  her  shoes ;  and  they  entered  a  room,  the  floor 
of  which  was  like  glass,  and  all  round,  perched  on  the 
shelves,  and  on  the  floor,  were  people,  big  and  small,  turned 
to  stone.  Of  some,  there  were  only  the  head  and  shoulders, 
the  arms  being  cut  off;  others  were  perfect.  Cherry  told 
the  old  woman  she  "wouldn't  cum  ony  furder  for  the 
wurld."  She  thought  from  the  first  she  was  got  into  a  land 
of  Small  People  underground,  only  master  was  like  other 
men ;  .but  now  she  know'd  she  was  with  the  conjurers,  who 
had  turned  all  these  people  to  stone.  She  had  heard  talk 
on  'em  up  in  Zennor,  and  she  knew  they  might  at  any 
moment  wake  up  and  eat  her. 

Old  Prudence  laughed  at  Cherry,  and  drove  her  on, 
insisted  upon  her  rubbing  up  a  box,  "like  a  coffin  on  six 
legs,"  until  she  could  see  her  face  in  it.  Well,  Cherry  did 
not  want  for  courage,  so  she  began  to  rub  with  a  will ;  the 
old  woman  standing  by,  knitting  all  the  time,  calling  out 
every  now  and  then  :  "  Rub !  rub !  rub !  Harder  and 
faster ! "  At  length  Cherry  got  desperate,  and  giving  a 
violent  rub  at  one  of  the  corners,  she  nearly  upset  the  box. 
^Vhen,  O  Lor !  it  gave  out  such  a  doleful,  unearthly  sound, 
that  Cherry  thought  all  the  stone  people  were  coming  to 
life,  and  with  her  fright  she  fell  down  in  a  fit     The  master 

9 


io2  ENGLISH  FOLK 

heard  all  this  noise,  and  came  in  to  inquire  into  the  cause 
of  the  hubbub.  He  was  in  great  wrath,  kicked  old 
Prudence  out  of  the  house  for  taking  Cherry  into  that  shut- 
up  room,  carried  Cherry  into  the  kitchen,  and  soon,  with 
some  cordial,  recovered  her  senses.  Cherry  could  not 
remember  what  had  happened ;  but  she  knew  there  was 
something  fearful  in  the  other  part  of  the  house.  But 
Cherry  was  mistress  now — old  Aunt  Prudence  was  gone. 
Her  master  was  so  kind  and  loving  that  a  year  passed  by 
like  a  summer  day.  Occasionally  her  master  left  home  for 
a  season  j  then  he  would  return  and  spend  much  time  in 
the  enchanted  apartments,  and  Cherry  was  certain  she  had 
heard  him  talking  to  the  stone  people.  Cherry  had  every- 
thing the  human  heart  could  desire;  but  she  was  not 
happy ;  she  would  know  more  of  the  place  and  the  people. 
Cherry  had  discovered  that  the  ointment  made  the  little 
boy's  eyes  bright  and  strange,  and  she  thought  often  that  he 
saw  more  than  she  did ;  she  would  try ;  yes,  she  would ! 

Well,  next  morning  the  child  was  washed,  his  eyes 
anointed,  and  the  cow  milked ;  she  sent  the  boy  to  gather 
her  some  flowers  in  the  garden,  and  taking  a  "  crum  "  of 
ointment,  she  put  it  into  her  eye.  Oh,  her  eye  would 
be  burned  out  of  her  head !  Cherry  ran  to  the  pool 
beneath  the  rock  to  wash  her  burning  eye;  when  lo  !  she 
saw  at  the  bottom  of  the  water  hundreds  of  little  people, 
mostly  ladies,  playing — and  there  was  her  master,  as  small 
as  the  others,  playing  with  them.  Everything  now  looked 
different  about  the  place.  Small  people  were  everywhere, 
hiding  in  the  flowers  sparkling  with  diamonds,  swinging  in 
the  trees,  and  running  and  leaping  under  and  over  the 
blades  of  grass.  The  master  never  showed  himself  above 
the  water  all  day ;  but  at  night  he  rode  up  to  the  house 
like  the  handsome  gentleman  she  had  seen  before.     He 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  103 

went  to  the  enchanted  chamber,  and  Cherry  soon  heard  the 
most  beautiful  music. 

In  the  morning  her  master  was  off,  dressed  as  if  to 
follow  the  hounds.  He  returned  at  night,  left  Cherry 
to  herself,  and  proceeded  at  once  to  his  private  apartments. 
Thus  it  was  day  after  day,  until  Cherry  could  stand  it  no 
longer.  So  she  peeped  through  the  key-hole,  and  saw  her 
master  with  lots  of  ladies,  singing ;  while  one  dressed  like 
a  queen  was  playing  on  the  coffin.  Oh,  how  madly  jealous 
Cherry  became  when  she  saw  her  master  kiss  this  lovely 
lady.  However,  the  next  day  the  master  remained  at 
home  to  gather  fruit.  Cherry  was  to  help  him,  and  when, 
as  usual,  he  looked  to  kiss  her,  she  slapped  his  face,  and 
told  him  to  kiss  the  Small  People,  like  himself,  with  whom 
he  played  under  the  water.  So  he  found  out  that  Cherry 
had  used  the  ointment.  With  much  sorrow,  he  told  her  she 
must  go  home,  that  he  would  have  no  spy  on  his  actions, 
and  that  Aunt  Prudence  must  come  back.  Long  before 
day,  Cherry  was  called  by  her  master.  He  gave  her  lots  of 
clothes  and  other  things ;  took  her  bundle  in  one  hand,  and 
a  lantern  in  the  other,  and  bade  her  follow  him.  They 
went  on  for  miles  on  miles,  all  the  time  going  up-hill, 
through  lanes,  and  narrow  passages.  When  they  came  at 
last  on  level  ground,  it  was  near  daybreak.  He  kissed 
Cherry,  told  her  she  was  punished  for  her  idle  curiosity; 
but  that  he  would,  if  she  behaved  well,  come  sometimes  on 
the  Lady  Downs  to  see  her.  Saying  this,  he  disappeared. 
The  sun  rose,  and  there  was  Cherry  seated  on  a  granite 
stone,  without  a  soul  within  miles  of  her — a  desolate  moor 
having  taken  the  place  of  a  smiling  garden.  Long,  long 
did  Cherry  sit  in  sorrow,  but  at  last  she  thought  she  would 
go  home. 

Her  parents  had  supposed  her  dead,  and  when  they  saw 


I04    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

her,  they  believed  her  to  be  her  own  ghost.  Cherry  told 
her  story,  which  every  one  doubted,  but  Cherry  never 
varied  her  tale,  and  at  last  every  one  believed  it.  They  say 
Cherry  was  never  afterwards  right  in  her  head,  and  on 
moonlight  nights,  until  she  died,  she  would  wander  on  to 
the  I^dy  Downs  to  look  for  her  master. 


THE  FAIRY  FUNERAL.^ 


The  parish  church  of  Lelant  is  curiously  situated  amidst 
hills  of  blown  sand,  near  the  entrance  of  the  creek  of  Hayle. 
The  sandy  waste  around  the  church  is  called  the  Towen ; 
and  this  place  was  long  the  scene  of  the  midnight  gambols 
of  the  Small  People.  In  the  adjoining  village — or,  as  it 
is  called  in  Cornwall,  the  "church-town" — lived  an  old 
woman  who  had  been,  according  to  her  own  statement,  a 
frequent  witness  to  the  use  made  by  the  fairies  of  the 
Towen.  Her  husband,  also,  had  seen  some  extraordinary 
scenes  on  the  same  spot.  From  her — to  me,  oft-repeated 
description — I  get  the  following  tale: — It  was  the  fishing 
season;  and  Richard  had  been  to  St.  Ives  for  some  fish. 
He  was  returning,  laden  with  pilchards,  on  a  beautiful 
moonlight  night;  and  as  he  ascended  the  hill  from  St 
Ives  he  thought  he  heard  the  bell  of  Lelant  church  tolling. 
Upon  a  nearer  approach  he  saw  lights  in  the  church ;  and 
most  distinctly  did  the  bell  toll — not  with  its  usual  clear 
sound,  but  dull  and  heavy  as  if  it  had  been  mufiled,  scarcely 
awakening  any  echo.  Richard  walked  towards  the  church, 
and  cautiously,  but  not  without  fear,  approaching  one  of 
the  windows,  looked  in.  At  first  he  could  not  perceive  any 
one  within,  nor  discover  whence  the  light  came  by  which 
everything  was  so  distinctly  illuminated.  At  length  he  saw, 
moving  along  the  centre  aisle,  a  funeral  procession.     The 

'  Robert  Hunt,  Popular  Romancu  of  the  West  of  England,  1st  scries, 
P-93- 


io6    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

little  people  who  crowded  the  aisle,  although  they  all  looked 
very  sorrowful,  were  not  dressed  in  any  mourning  garments 
— so  far  from  it  they  wore  wreaths  of  little  roses,  and 
carried  branches  of  the  blossoming  myrtle.  Richard 
beheld  the  bier  borne  between  six — whether  men  or  women 
he  could  not  tell — but  he  saw  that  the  face  of  the  corpse 
was  that  of  a  beautiful  female,  smaller  than  the  smallest 
child's  doll.  It  was,  Richard  said,  "as  if  it  were  a  dead 
seraph," — so  very  lovely  did  it  appear  to  him.  The  body 
was  covered  with  white  flowers,  and  its  hair,  like  gold 
threads,  was  tangled  amongst  the  blossoms.  The  body 
was  placed  within  the  altar  j  and  then  a  large  party 
of  men,  with  picks  and  spades,  began  to  dig  a  little  hole 
close  by  the  sacramental  table.  Their  task  being 
completed,  others,  with  great  care,  removed  the  body 
and  placed  it  in  the  hole.  The  entire  company  crowded  ^ 
around,  eager  to  catch  a  parting  glimpse  of  that  beauti- 
ful corpse  ere  yet  it  was  placed  in  the  earth.  As  it 
was  lowered  into  the  ground  they  began  to  tear  off  their 
flowers  and  break  their  branches  of  myrtle,  crying:  "  Our 
queen  is  dead  !  our  queen  is  dead ! "  At  length  one  of  the 
men  who  had  dug  the  grave  threw  a  shovelful  of  earth  upon 
the  body;  and  the  shriek  of  the  fairy  host  so  alarmed 
Richard,  that  he  involuntarily  joined  in  it  In  a  moment 
all  the  lights  were  extinguished,  and  the  fairies  were  heard 
flying  in  great  consternation  in  every  direction.  Many  of 
them  brushed  past  the  terrified  man,  and,  shrieking,  pierced 
him  with  sharp  instruments.  He  was  compelled  to  save  his 
life  by  the  most  rapid  flight. 


THE  PISKIES  IN  THE  CELLAR.^ 

On  the  Thursday  immediately  preceding  Christmas-tide 
(year  not  recorded)  were  assembled  at  "  The  Rising  Sun " 
the  captain  and  men  of  a  Stream  Work^  in  the  Cousc 
below.  This  Couse  was  a  flat  alluvial  moor,  broken  by 
gigantic  mole-hills,  the  work  of  many  a  generation  of 
tinners.  One  was  half  inclined,  on  looking  at  the  turmoiled 
ground,  to  believe  with  them  that  the  tin  grew  in  successive  • 
crops,  for,  after  years  of  turning  and  searching,  there  was 
still  enough  left  to  give  the  landlord  his  dole,  and  to  furnish 
wages  to  some  dozen  Streamers.  This  night  was  a  festival 
observed  in  honour  of  one  Picrous^  and  intended  to 
celebrate  the  discovery  of  tin  on  this  day  by  a  man  of  that 
name.  The  feast  is  still  kept,  though  the  observance  has 
dwindled  to  a  supper  and  its  attendant  merrymaking. 

Our  story  has  especially  to  do  with  the  adventures  of  one 
of  the  party,  John  Sturtridge,  who,  well  primed  with  ale, 
started  on  his  homeward  way  for  Luxulyan  Church-town. 
John  had  got  as  far  as  Tregarden  Down  without  any  mishap 
worth  recording,  when,  alas !  he  happed  upon  a  party  of 
the  little  people,  who  were  at  their  sports  in  the  shelter  of 
a  huge  granite  boulder.      Assailed  by  shouts  of  derisive 

^  Robert  Hunt,  Popular  Romances  of  the  West  of  England,  1st 
series,  p.  76. 

^  A  "  Stream  Work "  is  a  place  where  tin  is  obtained  from  the 
drift  deposits.     "  Streamers  "  are  the  tinners  who  wash  out  the  tin. 

*  Picrous  day  is  still  kept  up  in  Luxulyan. 


io8    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

laughter,  he  hastened  on  frightened  and  bewildered,  but 
the  Down,  well  known  from  early  experience,  became  like 
ground  untrodden,  and  after  long  trial  no  gate  or  stile  was 
to  be  found.  He  was  getting  vexed,  as  well  as  puzzled, 
when  a  chorus  of  tiny  voices  shouted  :  "  Ho !  and  away  for 
Par  Beach ! "  John  repeated  the  shout,  and  was  in  an 
instant  caught  up,  and  in  a  twinkling  found  himself  on  the 
sands  of  Par.  A  brief  dance,  and  the  cry  was  given :  '*  Ho  ! 
and  away  for  Squire  Tremain's  cellar !  "  A  repetition  of  the 
Piskie  cry  found  John  with  his  elfish  companions  in  the 
cellars  at  Heligan,  where  was  beer  and  wine  galore.  It  need 
not  be  said  that  he  availed  himself  of  his  opportunities.  The 
mixture  of  all  the  good  liquors  so  affected  him  that,  alas  ! 
he  forgot  in  time  to  catch  up  the  next  cry  of  "  Ho  !  and 
away  for  Par  Beach ! "  In  the  morning  John  was  found  by 
the  butler,  groping  and  tumbling  among  butts  and  barrels, 
very  much  muddled  with  the  squire's  good  drink.  His 
strange  story,  very  incoherently  told,  was  not  credited  by 
the  squire,  who  committed  him  to  jail  for  the  burglary,  and 
in  due  time  he  was  convicted  and  sentenced  to  death. 

The  morning  of  his  execution  arrived ;  a  large  crowd  had 
assembled,  and  John  was  standing  under  the  gallows  tree, 
when  a  commotion  was  observed  in  the  crowd,  and  a  little 
lady  of  commanding  mien  made  her  way  through  the  open- 
ing throng  to  the  scaffold.  In  a  shrill,  sweet  voice,  which 
John  recognised,  she  cried :  "  Ho !  and  away  for  France  ! " 
which  being  replied  to,  he  was  rapt  from  the  ofificers  of 
justice,  leaving  them  and  the  multitude  mute  with  wonder 
and  disappointment. 


EDWIN  AND  SIR  TOPAZ. 

In  Britain's  isle  and  Arthur's  days, 
Wiien  midnight  faeries  daunc'd  the  maze, 

Liv'd  Edwin  of  the  green ; 
Edwin,  I  wis,  a  gentle  youth, 
Endow'd  with  courage,  sense,  and  truth, 

Though  badly  shap'd  he  been. 

His  mountain  back  mote  well  be  said 
1  o  measure  heighth  against  his  head, 

And  lift  itself  above : 
Yet  spite  of  all  that  Nature  did 
To  make  his  uncouth  form  forbid, 

This  creature  dar'd  to  love. 

He  felt  the  charms  of  Edith's  eyes, 
Nor  wanted  hope  to  gain  the  prize, 

Could  ladies  look  within ; 
But  one  Sir  Topaz  dress'd  with  art, 
And,  if  a  shape  could  win  a  heart, 

He  had  a  shape  to  win. 

Edwin,  if  right  I  read  my  song, 
With  slighted  passion  pac'd  along 

All  in  the  moony  light : 
'Twas  near  an  old  enchanted  court, 
Where  sportive  faeries  made  resort 

To  revel  out  the  night. 

1  T.  Pamell,  Poems,  Aldine  Edition,  p.  55, 


1 1  o  ENGLISH  FOLK 

His  heart  was  drear,  his  hope  was  cross'd, 
'Twas  late,  'twas  farr,  the  path  was  lost 

That  reach'd  the  neighbour-town  ; 
With  weary  steps  he  quits  the  shades, 
Resolv'd  the  darkling  dome  he  treads, 

And  drops  his  limbs  adown. 

But  scant  he  lays  him  on  the  floor, 
When  hollow  winds  remove  the  door, 

A  trembling  rocks  the  ground : 
And,  well  I  ween  to  count  aright, 
At  once  an  hundred  tapers  light 

On  all  the  walls  around. 

Now  sounding  tongues  assail  his  ear, 
Now  sounding  feet  approachen  near. 

And  now  the  sounds  encrease ; 
And  from  the  corner  where  he  lay 
He  sees  a  train  profusely  gay 

Come  pranckling  o'er  the  place. 

But,  trust  me,  gentles,  never  yet 
Was  dight  a  masquing  half  so  neat, 

Or  half  so  rich  before ; 
The  country  lent  the  sweet  perfumes, 
The  sea  the  pearl,  the  sky  the  plumes. 

The  town  its  silken  store. 

Now  whilst  he  gazed,  a  gallant  drest 
In  flaunting  robes  above  the  rest, 

With  awfull  accent  cried : 
"  What  mortal  of  a  wretched  mind, 
Whose  sighs  infect  the  balmy  wind, 

Has  here  presumed  to  hide  ? " 


AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

At  this  the  swain,  whose  venturous  soul 
No  fears  of  magic  art  controul, 

Advanc'd  in  open  sight. 
"  Nor  have  I  cause  of  dreed,"  he  said, 
"Who  view,  by  no  presumption  led. 

Your  revels  of  the  night 

"  'Twas  grief  for  scorn  of  faithful  love, 
Which  made  my  steps  unweeting  rove 

Amid  the  nightly  dew." 
'"Tis  well,"  the  gallant  cries  again, 
"  We  faeries  never  injure  men 

Who  dare  to  tell  us  true. 

"  Exalt  thy  love-dejected  heart, 
Be  mine  the  task,  or  ere  we  part, 

To  make  thee  grief  resign ; 
Now  take  the  pleasure  of  thy  chaunce ; 
Whilst  I  with  Mab,  my  partner,  daunce, 

Be  little  Mable  thine  !  " 

He  spoke,  and  all  a  sudden  there 
Light  musick  floats  in  wanton  air ; 

The  monarch  leads  the  queen ; 
The  rest  their  faerie  partners  found, 
And  Mable  trimly  tript  the  ground 

With  Edwin  of  the  green. 

The  dauncing  past,  the  board  was  laid, 
And  siker  such  a  feast  was  made 

As  heart  and  lip  desire ; 
Withouten  hands  the  dishes  fly, 
The  glasses  with  a  wish  come  nigh, 

And  with  a  wish  retire. 


112  ENGLISH  FOLK 

But  now  to  please  the  faery  king, 
Full  every  deal  they  laugh  and  sing, 

And  antick  feats  devise ; 
Some  wind  and  tumble  like  an  ape, 
And  other-some  transmute  their  shape 

In  Edwin's  wondering  eyes. 

I'ill  one  at  last  that  Robin  hight, 
Renown'd  for  pinching  maids  by  night, 

Has  hent  him  up  aloof; 
And  full  against  the  beam  he  flung, 
Where  by  the  back  the  youth  he  hung 

To  sprawl  unneath  the  roof. 

From  thence,  "  Reverse  my  charm,"  he  cries, 
*'  And  let  it  fairly  now  suffice 

The  gambol  has  been  shown." 
But  Oberon  answers  with  a  smile, 
*'  Content  thee,  Edwin,  for  a  while. 

The  vantage  is  thine  own." 

Here  ended  all  the  phantome  play; 
They  smelt  the  fresh  approach  of  day. 

And  heard  a  cock  to  crow ; 
The  whirling  wind  that  bore  the  crowd 
Has  clapp'd  the  door,  and  whistled  loud 

To  warn  them  all  to  go. 

Then  screaming  all  at  once  they  fly. 
And  all  at  once  the  tapers  die ; 

Poor  Edwin  falls  to  floor ; 
Forlorn  his  state,  and  dark  the  place, 
Was  never  wight  in  such  a  case 

Through  all  the  land  before. 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  113 

But  soon  as  Dan  Apollo  rose, 
Full  jolly  creature  home  he  goes, 

He  feels  his  back  the  less ; 
His  honest  tongue  and  steady  mind 
Han  rid  him  of  the  lump  behind 

Which  made  him  want  success. 

With  lusty  livelyhed  he  talks, 
He  seems  adauncing  as  he  walks  ; 

His  story  soon  took  wind  j 
And  beauteous  Edith  sees  the  youth, 
Endow'd  with  courage,  sense,  and  truth 

Without  a  bunch  behind. 

The  story  told,  Sir  Topaz  mov'd, 
The  youth  of  Edith  erst  approv'd, 

To  see  the  revel  scene. 
At  close  of  eve  he  leaves  his  home, 
And  wends  to  find  the  ruin'd  dome 

All  on  the  gloomy  plain. 

As  there  he  bides,  it  so  befell, 

The  wind  came  rustling  down  a  dellj 

A  shaking  seiz'd  the  wall : 
Up  sprang  the  tapers  as  before, 
The  faeries  bragly  foot  the  floor, 

And  musick  fills  the  hall. 

But,  certes,  sorely  sunk  with  woe, 
Sir  Topaz  sees  the  elfin  show, 

His  spirits  in  him  die  : 
When  Oberon  cries,  "  A  man  is  near 
A  mortall  passion,  cleeped  fear, 

Hangs  flagging  in  the  sky." 


1 1 4  ENGLISH  FOLK 

With  that  Sir  Topaz,  hapless  youth, 
In  accents  faultering  ay  for  ruth 

Intreats  them  pity  graunt ; 
For  als  he  been  a  mister  wight 
Betray'd  by  wandering  in  the  night 

To  tread  the  circled  haunt, 

"  Ah  losell  vile ! "  at  once  they  roar, 
"  And  little  skill'd  of  faerie  lore, 

Thy  cause  to  come  we  know : 
Now  has  thy  kestrell  courage  fell ; 
And  faeries,  since  a  lie  you  tell. 

Are  free  to  work  thee  woe." 

Then  Will,  who  bears  the  wispy  fire 
To  trail  the  swains  among  the  mire, 

The  caitive  upward  flung ; 
There  like  a  tortoise  in  a  shop 
He  dangled  from  the  chamber-top 

Where  whilome  Edwin  hung. 

The  revel  now  proceeds  apace, 
Deffly  they  frisk  it  o'er  the  place, 

They  sit,  they  drink,  and  eat ; 
The  time  with  frolick  mirth  beguile. 
And  poor  Sir  Topaz  hangs  the  while 

Till  all  the  rout  retreat. 

By  this  the  Starrs  began  to  wink, 
They  shriek,  they  fly,  the  tapers  sink, 

And  down  ydrops  the  knight : 
For  never  spell  by  faerie  laid 
With  strong  enchantment  bound  a  glade 

Beyond  the  length  of  night. 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  115 

Chill,  dark,  alone,  adreed,  he  lay, 
Till  up  the  welkin  rose  the  day. 

Then  deem'd  the  dole  was  o'er : 
But  wot  ye  well  his  harder  lot  ? 
His  seely  back  the  bunch  has  got- 

Which  Edwin  lost  afore. 

This  tale  a  Sybil-nurse  ared ; 

She  softly  stroked  my  youngling  head,. 

And  when  the  tale  was  done, 
"  Thus  some  are  born,  my  son,"  she  cries, 
"  With  base  impediment  to  rise. 

And  some  are  born  with  none. 

"  But  virtue  can  itself  advance 

To  what  the  favourite  fools  of  chance 

By  fortune  seem'd  design'd ; 
Virtue  can  gain  the  odds  of  fate. 
And  from  itself  shake  off  the  weight 

Upon  th'  unworthy  mind." 


THE  TWO  SERVING  DAMSELS.^ 

Two  serving  damsels  of  this  place  declared,  as  an  excuse, 
perhaps,  for  spending  more  money  than  they  ought  upon 
finery,  that  the  pixies  were  very  kind  to  them,  and  would 
often  drop  silver  for  their  pleasure  into  a  bucket  of  fair 
water,  which  they  placed  for  the  accommodation  of  those 
little  beings  in  the  chimney  corner  every  night  before  they 
went  to  bed.  Once,  however,  it  was  forgotten,  and  the 
pixies,  finding  themselves  disappointed  by  an  empty  bucket, 
whisked  upstairs  to  the  maids'  bedroom,  popped  through 
the  keyhole,  and  began  in  a  very  audible  tone  to  exclaim 
against  the  laziness  and  neglect  of  the  damsels.  One  of 
them  who  lay  awake  and  heard  all  this,  jogged  her  fellow- 
servant,  and  proposed  getting  up  immediately  to  repair  the 
fault  of  omission;  but  the  lazy  girl,  who  liked  not  being 
disturbed  out  of  a  comfortable  nap,  pettishly  declared  "that, 
for  her  part,  she  would  not  stir  out  of  bed  to  please  all  the 
pixies  in  Devonshire."  The  good-humoured  damsel,  how- 
ever, got  up,  filled  the  bucket,  and  was  rewarded  by  a 
handful  of  silver  pennies  found  in  it  the  next  morning. 
But  ere  that  time  had  arrived,  what  was  her  alarm  as  she 
crept  towards  the  bed,  to  hear  all  the  elves  in  high  and 
stern  debate,  consulting  as  to  what  punishment  should  be 

^  Mrs.   Bray,    The  Borders  of  tht    Tamar  and  the   Tavy,  vol.  i. 
p.  178. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.     117 

inflicted  on  the  lazy  lass  who  would  not  stir  for  their 
pleasure. 

Some  proposed  "pinches,  nips,  and  bobs,"  others  to 
spoil  her  new  cherry-coloured  bonnet  and  ribands.  One 
talked  of  sending  her  the  toothache,  another  of  giving  her  a 
red  nose  ;  but  this  last  was  voted  a  too  vindictive  punish- 
ment for  a  pretty  young  woman.  So,  tempering  mercy  with 
justice,  the  pixies  were  kind  enough  to  let  her  oflF  with  a 
lame  leg,  which  was  so  to  continue  only  for  seven  years, 
and  was  alone  to  be  cured  by  a  certain  herb,  growing  on 
Dartmoor,  whose  long  and  learned  and  very  difficult  name 
the  elfin  judge  pronounced  in  a  high  and  audible  voice.  It 
was  a  name  of  seven  syllables,  seven  being  also  the  number 
of  years  decreed  for  the  chastisement 

The  good-natured  maid,  wishing  to  save  her  fellow-damsel 
so  long  a  suffering,  tried  with  might  and  main  to  bear  in 
mind  the  name  of  this  potent  herb.  She  said  it  over  and 
over  again,  tied  a  knot  in  her  garter  at  every  syllable  as  a 
help  to  memory  then  very  popular,  and  thought  she  had 
the  word  as  sure  as  her  own  name,  and  very  possibly  felt 
much  more  anxious  about  retaining  the  one  than  the  other. 

At  length  she  dropped  asleep,  and  did  not  wake  till  the 
morning.  Now  whether  her  head  might  be  like  a  sieve,  that 
lets  out  as  fast  as  it  takes  in,  or  if  the  over-exertion  to 
remember  might  cause  her  to  forget,  cannot  be  determined  \ 
but  certain  it  is  that  when  she  opened  her  eyes  she  knew 
nothing  at  all  about  the  matter,  excepting  that  Molly  was  to 
go  lame  on  her  right  leg  for  seven  long  years,  unless  a  herb 
with  a  strange  name  could  be  got  to  cure  her.  And  lame 
she  went  for  nearly  the  whole  of  that  period. 

At  length  (it  was  about  the  end  of  that  time)  a  merry, 
squint-eyed,  queer-looking  boy  started  up  one  fine  summer 
day,  just  as  she  went  to  pluck  a  mushroom,  and  came 

10 


ii8    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

tumbling,  head  over  heels,  towards  her.  He  insisted  on 
striking  her  leg  with  a  plant  which  he  held  in  his  hand. 
From  that  moment  she  got  well,  and  lame  Molly,  as  a 
reward  for  her  patience  in  suffering,  became  the  best  dancer 
in  the  whole  town  at  the  celebrated  festivities  of  Mayday  on 
the  green. 


THE  TULIP  BED.i 

Near  a  pixy  field  in  this  neighbourhood  there  h'ved  on  a 
time  an  old  woman  who  possessed  a  cottage  and  a  very 
pretty  garden,  wherein  she  cultivated  a  most  beautiful  bed 
of  tulips.  The  pixies,  it  is  traditionally  averred,  so  delighted 
in  this  spot,  that  they  would  carry  their  elfin  babies  thither, 
and  sing  them  to  rest.  Often  at  the  dead  hour  of  the  night 
a  sweet  lullaby  was  heard,  and  strains  of  the  most  melodious 
music  would  float  in  the  air,  that  seemed  to  owe  their  origin 
to  no  other  musicians  than  the  beautiful  tulips  themselves ; 
and  whilst  these  delicate  flowers  waved  their  heads  to  the 
evening  breeze,  it  sometimes  seemed  as  if  they  were 
marking  time  to  their  own  singing.  As  soon  as  the  elfin 
babies  were  lulled  asleep  by  such  melodies,  the  pixies 
would  return  to  the  neighbouring  field,  and  there  com- 
mence dancing,  making  those  rings  on  the  green  which 
showed,  even  to  mortal  eyes,  what  sort  of  gambols  had 
occupied  them  during  the  night  season. 

At  the  first  dawn  of  light  the  watchful  pixies  once  more 
sought  the  tulips,  and  though  still  invisible  could  be  heard 
kissing  and  caressing  their  babies.  The  tulips,  thus 
favoured  by  a  race  of  genii,  retained  their  beauty  much 
longer  than  any  other  flowers  in  the  garden ;  whilst,  though 
contrary  to  their  nature,  as  the  pixies  breathed  over  them 
they  became  as  fragrant  as  roses ;  and  so  delighted  at  all 

1  Mrs.  Bray,  The  Borders  of  the  Tamar  and  the  Tavy,  vol.  i.  p.  180. 


I20    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

this  was  the  old  woman  who  possessed  the  garden,  that  she 
never  suffered  a  single  tulip  to  be  plucked  from  its  stem. 

At  length,  however,  she  died;  and  the  heir  who  suc- 
ceeded her  destroyed  the  enchanted  flowers,  and  converted 
the  spot  into  a  parsley  bed,  a  circumstance  which  so 
disappointed  and  offended  the  pixies  that  they  caused  it  to 
wither  away;  and  indeed  for  many  years  nothing  would 
grow  in  the  beds  of  the  whole  garden.  But  these  sprites, 
though  eager  in  resenting  an  injury,  were,  like  most  warm 
spirits,  equally  capable  of  returning  a  benefit;  and  if  they 
destroyed  the  product  of  the  good  old  woman's  garden, 
when  it  had  fallen  into  unworthy  hands,  they  tended  the 
bed  that  wrapped  her  clay  with  affectionate  solicitude. 
For  they  were  heard  lamenting  and  singing  sweet  dirges 
around  her  grave;  nor  did  they  neglect  to  pay  this 
mournful  tribute  to  her  memory  every  night  before  the 
moon  was  at  the  full;  for  then  their  high  solemnity  of 
dancing,  singing,  and  rejoicing  took  place,  to  hail  the  queen 
of  the  night  on  completing  her  silver  circle  in  the  skies. 
No  human  hand  ever  tended  the  grave  of  the  poor  old 
woman  who  had  nurtured  the  tulip  bed  for  the  delight  of 
these  elfin  creatures ;  but  no  rank  weed  was  ever  seen  to 
grow  upon  it;  the  sod  was  ever  green,  and  the  prettiest 
flowers  would  spring  up  without  sowing,  or  planting,  and  so 
they  continued  to  do  till  it  was  supposed  the  mortal  body 
was  reduced  to  its  original  dust 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  THE  PISKIES.i 

John  Taprail,  long  since  dead,  moored  his  boat  one 
evening  beside  a  barge  of  much  larger  size,  in  which  his 
neighbour  John  Rendle  traded  between  this  place  and 
Plymouth ;  and  as  the  wind,  though  gusty,  was  not 
sufficient  to  cause  any  apprehension,  he  went  to  bed  and 
slept  soundly.  In  the  middle  of  the  night  he  was  awoke  by 
a  voice  from  without  bidding  him  get  up,  and  "  shift  his 
rope  over  Rendle' s,"  as  his  boat  was  in  considerable  danger. 
Now,  as  all  Taprail's  capital  was  invested  in  his  boat  and 
gear,  we  may  be  sure  that  he  was  not  long  in  putting  on  his 
sea-clothes,  and  going  to  its  rescue.  To  his  great  chagrin, 
he  found  that  a  joke  had  been  played  upon  him,  for  the  boat 
and  barge  were  both  riding  quietly  at  their  ropes.  On  his 
way  back  again,  when  within  a  few  yards  of  his  home,  he 
observed  a  crowd  of  the  little  people  congregated  under  the 
shelter  of  a  boat  that  was  lying  high  and  dry  on  the  beach. 
They  were  sitting  in  a  semicircle,  holding  their  hats  towards 
one  of  their  number,  who  was  engaged  in  distributing  a  heap 
of  money,  pitching  a  gold  piece  into  each  hat  in  succession, 
after  the  manner  in  which  cards  are  dealt  Now  John  had 
a  covetous  heart ;  and  the  sight  of  so  much  cash  made  him 
forget  the  respect  due  to  an  assembly  of  piskies,  and  that 
they  are  not  slow  to  punish  any  intrusion  on  their  privacy ; 
so  he  crept  slyly  towards  them,  hidden  by  the  boat,  and, 
reaching  round,   managed    to   introduce  his  hat  without 

^  Choice  Notti :  Folk-Lore,  p.  76. 


122    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

exciting  any  notice.  When  the  heap  was  getting  low,  and 
Taprail  was  awaking  to  the  dangers  of  detection,  he  craftily 
withdrew  his  hat  and  made  off  with  the  prize.  He  had 
got  a  fair  start  before  the  trick  was  discovered ;  but  the 
defrauded  piskies  were  soon  on  his  heels,  and  he  barely 
managed  to  reach  his  house  and  to  close  the  door  upon  his 
pursuers.  So  narrow  indeed  was  his  escape,  that  he  had 
left  the  tails  of  his  sea-coat  in  their  hands.  Such  is  the 
evidently  imperfect  version  of  an  old  legend,  as  it  is  remem- 
bered by  the  fishermen  of  the  present  generation.  We  may 
suppose  that  John  Taprail's  door  had  a  key-hole ;  and  there 
would  have  been  poetical  justice  in  the  story,  if  the  elves 
had  compelled  the  fraudulent  fisherman  to  turn  his  hat  or 
pocket  inside  out 


A  FAIRY  CAUGHT.i 

I  HEARD  last  week  of  three  fairies  having  been  seen  in 
Zennor  very  recently.  A  man  who  lived  at  the  foot  of 
Trendreen  Hill,  in  the  valley  of  Treridge,  I  think,  was 
cutting  furze  on  the  hill.  Near  the  middle  of  the  day  he 
saw  one  of  the  small  people,  not  more  than  a  foot  long, 
stretched  at  full  length  and  fast  asleep,  on  a  bank  of 
griglans  (heath),  surrounded  by  high  brakes  of  furze.  The 
man  took  off  his  furze  cuff,  and  slipped  the  little  man  into 
it,  without  his  waking  up  ;  went  down  to  the  house ;  took 
the  little  fellow  out  of  the  cuff  on  the  hearthstone,  when  he 
awakened,  and  seemed  quite  pleased  and  at  home,  beginning 
to  play  with  the  children,  who  were  well  pleased  with  the 
small  body,  and  called  him  Bobby  Griglans. 

The  old  people  were  very  careful  not  to  let  Bob  out  of 
the  house,  or  be  seen  by  the  neighbours,  as  he  promised  to 
show  the  man  where  the  crocks  of  gold  were  buried  on  the 
hill.  A  few  days  after  he  was  brought  from  the  hill,  all  the 
neighbours  came  with  their  horses  (according  to  custom)  to 
bring  home  the  winter's  reek  of  furze,  which  had  to  be 
brought  down  the  hill  in  trusses  on  the  backs  of  the  horses. 
That  Bob  might  be  safe  and  out  of  sight,  he  and  the 
children  were  shut  up  in  the  barn.  Whilst  the  furze-carriers 
were  in  to  dinner,  the  prisoners  contrived  to  get  out,  to  have 
a  "  courant "  round  the  furze-reek,  when  they  saw  a  little 

'  Robert  Hunt,  Popular  Romances  of  the  West  of  England,  2nd 
series,  p.  265. 


X24    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

man  and  woman,  not  much  larger  than  Bob,  searching  into 
every  hole  and  corner  among  the  trusses  that  were  dropped 
round  the  unfinished  reek.  The  little  woman  was  wringing 
her  hands  and  crying:  "Oh,  my  dear  and  tender  Skilly- 
widden,  wherever  canst  ah  (thou)  be  gone  to  ?  Shall  I  ever 
cast  eyes  on  thee  again  ?  "  "  Go  'e  back,"  says-  Bob  to  the 
children ;  "  my  father  and  mother  are  come  here  too."  He 
then  cried  out :  "  Here  I  am,  mammy ! "  By  the  time  the 
words  were  out  of  his  mouth,  the  little  man  and  woman, 
with  their  precious  Skillywidden,  were  nowhere  to  be  seen, 
and  there  has  been  no  sight  nor  sign  of  them  since.  The 
children  got  a  sound  thrashing  for  letting  Skillywidden 
escape. 


COLMAN  GREY.i 

A  FARMER,  who  formerly  lived  on  an  estate  in  our  vicinity, 
was  returning  one  evening  from  a  distant  part  of  the  farm, 
when,  in  crossing  a  particular  field,  he  saw,  to  his  surprise, 
sitting  on  a  stone  in  the  middle  of  it,  a  miserable-looking 
little  creature,  human  in  appearance,  though  diminutive 
in  size,  and  apparently  starving  with  cold  and  hunger. 
Pitying  its  condition,  and  perhaps  aware  that  it  was  of  elfish 
origin,  and  that  good  luck  would  amply  repay  him  for  his 
kind  treatment  of  it,  he  took  it  home,  placed  it  by  the  warm 
hearth  on  a  stool,  and  fed  it  with  nice  milL  The  poor 
bantling  soon  recovered  from  the  lumpish  and  only  half- 
sensible  state  in  which  it  was  found,  and,  though  it  never 
spoke,  became  very  lively  and  playful.  From  the  amuse- 
ment which  its  strange  tricks  excited,  it  became  a  general 
favourite  in  the  family,  and  the  good  folk  really  felt  very 
sorry  when  their  strange  guest  quitted  them,  which  he  did 
in  a  very  unceremonious  manner.  After  the  lapse  of  three 
or  four  days,  as  the  little  fellow  was  gamboling  about  the 
farm  kitchen,  a  shrill  voice  from  the  town-place,  or  farm- 
yard, was  heard  to  call  three  times:  "Colman  Grey!"  at 
which  he  sprang  up,  and  gaining  voice,  cried :  "  Ho !  ho ! 
ho !  my  daddy  is  come,"  flew  through  the  keyhole,  and  was 
never  afterwards  heard  of. 

*  Choice  Notes :  Folk-Lore,  p.  73. 


THE  KING  OF  THE  CATS.i 

Many  years  ago,  long  before  shooting  in  Scotland  was  a 
fashion  as  it  is  now,  two  young  men  spent  the  autumn  in 
the  very  far  north,  living  in  a  lodge  far  from  other  houses, 
with  an  old  woman  to  cook  for  them.  Her  cat  and  their 
own  dogs  formed  all  the  rest  of  the  household. 

One  afternoon  the  elder  of  the  two  young  men  said  he 
would  not  go  out,  and  the  younger  one  went  alone,  to 
follow  the  path  of  the  previous  day's  sport  looking  for 
missing  birds,  and  intending  to  return  home  before  the 
early  sunset  However,  he  did  not  do  so,  and  the  elder 
man  became  very  uneasy  as  he  watched  and  waited  in  vain 
till  long  after  their  usual  supper-time.  At  last  the  young 
man  returned,  wet  and  exhausted,  nor  did  he  explain  his 
unusual  lateness  until,  after  supper,  they  were  seated  by  the 
fire  with  their  pipes,  the  dogs  lying  at  their  feet,  and  the  old 
woman's  black  cat  sitting  gravely  with  half-shut  eyes  on  the 
hearth  between  them.  Then  the  young  man  began  as 
follows : — 

"You  must  be  wondering  what  made  me  so  late.  I 
have  had  a  curious  adventure  to-day.  I  hardly  know  what 
to  say  about  it  I  went,  as  I  told  you  I  should,  along  our 
yesterday's  route.  A  mountain  fog  came  on  just  as  I  was 
about  to  turn  homewards,  and  I  completely  lost  my  way. 
I  wandered  about  for  a  long  time,  not  knowing  where  I 
was,  till  at  last  I  saw  a  light,  and  made  for  it,  hoping  to  get 

^  Folk-Lore  Journal,  vol.  ii.  p.  22. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.     127 

help.  As  I  came  near  it,  it  disappeared,  and  I  found  myself 
close  to  a  large  old  oak  tree.  I  climbed  into  the  branches 
the  better  to  look  for  the  light,  and,  behold !  it  was  beneath 
me,  inside  the  hollow  trunk  of  the  tree.  I  seemed  to  be 
looking  down  into  a  church,  where  a  funeral  was  in  the  act 
of  taking  place.  I  heard  singing,  and  saw  a  coffin,  sur- 
rounded by  torches,  all  carried  by But  I  know  you 

won't  believe  me  if  I  tell  you  ! " 

His  friend  eagerly  begged  him  to  go  on,  and  laid  down 
his  pipe  to  listen.  The  dogs  were  sleeping  quietly,  but  the 
cat  was  sitting  up  apparently  listening  as  attentively  as  the 
man,  and  both  young  men  involuntarily  turned  their  eyes 
towards  him.  "Yes,"  proceeded  the  absentee,  "it  is  per- 
fectly true.  The  coffin  and  the  torches  were  both  borne 
by  cats,  and  upon  the  coffin  were  marked  a  crown  and 
sceptre ! "  He  got  no  further ;  the  cat  started  up  shrieking : 
"  By  Jove !  old  Peter's  dead !  and  I'm  the  King  o'  the 
Cats  1 "  rushed  up  the  chimney  and  was  seen  no  more. 


A  MYTH  OF  MIDRIDGE; 

Or,  a  Story  anent  a  witless  Wight's  Adventures  with  the 
Midridge  Fairies  in  the  Bishoprick  of  Durham ;  now 
more  than  two  Centuries  ago.^ 

Talking  about  fairies  the  other  day  to  a  nearly  octogenarian 
female  neighbour,  I  asked,  Had  she  ever  seen  one  in  her 
youthful  days?  Her  answer  was  in  the  negative;  "but," 
quoth  she,  "I've  heard  my  grandmother  tell  a  story,  that 
Midridge  (near  Auckland)  was  a  great  place  for  fairies 
when  she  was  a  child,  and  for  many  long  years  after  that." 
A  rather  lofty  hill,  only  a  short  distance  from  the  village, 
was  their  chief  place  of  resort,  and  around  it  they  used  to 
dance,  not  by  dozens,  but  by  hundreds,  when  the  gloaming 
began  to  show  itself  of  the  summer  nights.  Occasionally  a 
villager  used  to  visit  the  scene  of  their  gambols  in  order  to 
catch  if  it  were  but  a  passing  glance  of  the  tiny  folks, 
dressed  in  their  vestments  of  green,  as  delicate  as  the  thread 
of  the  gossamer;  for  well  knew  the  lass  so  favoured  that 
ere  the  current  year  had  disappeared  she  would  have 
become  the  happy  wife  of  the  object  of  her  only  love ;  and 
also,  as  well  ken'd  the  lucky  lad,  that  he  too  would  get  a 
weel  tochered  lassie,  long  afore  his  brow  became  wrinkled 
with  age,  or  the  snow-white  blossoms  had  begun  to  bud 
forth  upon  his  pate.  Woe  to  those,  however,  who  dared  to 
come  by  twos  or  by  threes,  with  inquisitive  and  curious  eye, 
within  the  bounds  of  their  domain ;  for  if  caught,  or  only 
1  Choice  Notes    Folk-Lore,  p.  131. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES.     129 

the  eye  of  a  fairy  fell  upon  them,  ill  was  sure  to  betide 
them  through  life.  Still  more  awful,  however,  was  the 
result  if  any  were  so  rash  as  to  address  them,  either  in 
plain  prose  or  rustic  rhyme.  The  last  instance  of  their 
being  spoken  to  is  thus  still  handed  down  by  tradition : — 
'Twas  on  a  beautifully  clear  evening  in  the  month  of 
August,  when  the  last  sheaf  had  crowned  the  last  stack  in 
their  master's  hagyard,  and  after  calling  the  "harvest  home," 
the  daytale  men  and  household  servants  were  enjoying 
themselves  over  massive  pewter  quarts  foaming  over  with 
strong  beer,  that  the  subject  of  the  evening's  conversation 
at  last  turned  upon  the  fairies  of  the  neighbouring  hill, 
and  each  related  his  oft-told  tale  which  he  had  learned  by 
rote  from  the  lips  of  some  parish  grandame.  At  last  the 
senior  of  the  mirthful  party  proposed  to  a  youthful  mate 
of  his,  who  had  dared  to  doubt  even  the  existence  of  such 
creatures,  that  he  durst  not  go  to  the  hill,  mounted  on  his 
master's  best  palfrey,  and  call  aloud,  at  the  full  extent  of 
his  voice,  the  following  rhymes : 

"  Rise  little  Lads, 
Wi'  your  iron  gads, 
And  set  the  Lad  o'  Midridge  hame." 

Tam  o'  Shanter-like,  elated  with  the  contents  of  the 
pewter  vessels,  he  nothing  either  feared  or  doubted,  and  off 
went  the  lad  to  the  fairy  hill ;  so,  being  arrived  at  the  base, 
he  was  nothing  loath  to  extend  his  voice  to  its  utmost  powers 
in  giving  utterance  to  the  above  invitatory  verses.  Scarcely 
had  the  last  words  escaped  his  lips  ere  he  was  nearly  sur- 
rounded by  many  hundreds  of  the  little  folks,  who  are  ever 
ready  to  revenge,  with  the  infliction  of  the  most  dreadful 
punishment,  every  attempt  at  insult.  The  most  robust  of 
the  fairies,  who  I  take  to  have  been  Oberon,  their  king, 


I30  ENGLISH  FOLK 

wielding  an  enormous  javelin,  thus,  also  in  rhymes  equally 
rough,  rude,  and  rustic,  addressed  the  witless  wight : — 

"  Sillie  Willy,  mount  thy  filly; 
And  if  it  isn't  weel  corn'd  and  fed, 
I'll  hae  thee  afore  thou  gets  hame  to  thy  Midridge  bed." 

Well  was  it  for  Willy  that  his  home  was  not  far  distant, 
and  that  part  light  was  still  remaining  in  the  sky.  Horrified 
beyond  measure,  he  struck  his  spurs  into  the  sides  of  his 
beast,  who,  equally  alarmed,  darted  off  as  quick  as  lightning 
towards  the  mansion  of  its  owner.  Luckily  it  was  one  of 
those  houses  of  olden  time,  which  would  admit  of  an 
equestrian  and  his  horse  within  its  portals  without  danger ; 
lucky,  also,  was  it  that  at  the  moment  they  arrived  the  door 
was  standing  wide  open :  so,  considering  the  house  a  safer 
sanctuary  from  the  belligerous  fairies  than  the  stable,  he 
galloped  direct  into  the  hall,  to  the  no  small  amazement  of 
all  beholders,  when  the  door  was  instantly  closed  upon  his 
pursuing  foes !  As  soon  as  Willy  was  able  to  draw  his 
breath,  and  had  in  part  overcome  the  effects  of  his  fear,  he 
related  to  his  comrades  a  full  and  particular  account  of  his 
adventures  with  the  fairies;  but  from  that  time  forward, 
never  more  could  any  one,  either  for  love  or  money,  prevail 
upon  Willy  to  give  the  fairies  of  the  hill  an  invitation  to 
take  an  evening  walk  with  him  as  far  as  the  village  of 
Midridge ! 

To  conclude,  when  the  fairies  had  departed,  and  it  was 
considered  safe  to  unbar  the  door,  to  give  egress  to  Willy 
and  his  filly,  it  was  found,  to  the  amazement  of  all  beholders, 
that  the  identical  iron  javelin  of  the  fairy  king  had  pierced 
through  the  thick  oaken  door,  which  for  service  as  well  as 
safety  was  strongly  plated  with  iron,  where  it  still  stuck, 
and  actually  required  the  strength  of  the  stoutest  fellow  in 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  131 

the  company,  with  the  aid  of  a  smith's  great  fore-hammer, 
to  drive  it  forth.  This  singular  relic  of  fairyland  was 
preserved  for  many  generations,  till  passing  eventually  into 
the  hands  of  one  who  cared  for  none  of  these  things,  it  was 
lost,  to  the  no  small  regret  of  all  lovers  of  legendary  lore ! 


THE  GREEN  CHILDREN.^ 

"Another  wonderful  thing,"  says  Ralph  of  Coggeshall, 
"  happened  in  Suffolk,  at  St  Mary's  of  the  Wolf-pits.  A 
boy  and  his  sister  were  found  by  the  inhabitants  of  that 
place  near  the  mouth  of  a  pit  which  is  there,  who  had  the 
form  of  all  their  limbs  like  to  those  of  other  men,  but  they 
differed  in  the  colour  of  their  skin  from  all  the  people  of 
our  habitable  world;  for  the  whole  surface  of  their  skin 
was  tinged  of  a  green  colour.  No  one  could  understand 
their  speech.  When  they  were  brought  as  curiosities  to  the 
house  of  a  certain  knight,  Sir  Richard  de  Caine,  at  Wikes, 
they  wept  bitterly.  Bread  and  other  victuals  were  set  before 
them,  but  they  would  touch  none  of  them,  though  they  were 
ormented  by  great  hunger,  as  the  girl  afterwards  acknow- 
ledged. At  length,  when  some  beans  just  cut,  with  their 
stalks,  were  brought  into  the  house,  they  made  signs,  with 
great  avidity,  that  they  should  be  given  to  them.  "When 
they  were  brought,  they  opened  the  stalks  instead  of  the 
pods,  thinking  the  beans  were  in  the  hollow  of  them ;  but 
not  finding  them  there,  they  began  to  weep  anew.  When 
those  who  were  present  saw  this,  they  opened  the  pods,  and 
showed  them  the  naked  beans.  They  fed  on  these  with 
great  delight,  and  for  a  long  time  tasted  no  other  food. 
The  boy  however  was  always  languid  and  depressed,  and  he 
died  within  a  short  time.     The  girl  enjoyed  continual  good 

1  T.  Keightley,  TTit  Fairy  Mythology,  p.  281. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES,     133 

health,  and  becoming  accustomed  to  various  kinds  of  food, 
lost  completely  that  green  colour,  and  gradually  recovered 
the  sanguine  habit  of  her  entire  body.  She  was  afterwards 
regenerated  by  the  laver  of  holy  baptism,  and  lived  for 
many  years  in  the  service  of  that  knight  (as  I  have  fre- 
quently heard  from  him  and  his  family),  and  was  rather 
loose  and  wanton  in  her  conduct  Being  frequently  asked 
about  the  people  of  her  country,  she  asserted  that  the 
inhabitants,  and  all  they  had  in  that  country,  were  of  a  green 
colour ;  and  that  they  saw  no  sun,  but  enjoyed  a  degree  of 
light  like  what  is  after  sunset  Being  asked  how  she  came 
into  this  country  with  the  aforesaid  boy,  she  replied,  that  as 
they  were  following  their  flocks  they  came  to  a  certain 
cavern,  on  entering  which  they  heard  a  delightful  sound  of 
bells ;  ravished  by  whose  sweetness,  they  went  for  a  long 
time  wandering  on  through  the  cavern  until  they  came  to 
its  mouth.  When  they  came  out  of  it,  they  were  struck 
senseless  by  the  excessive  light  of  the  sun,  and  the  unusual 
temperature  of  the  air ;  and  they  thus  lay  for  a  long  time. 
Being  terrified  by  the  noise  of  those  who  came  on  them, 
they  wished  to  fly,  but  they  could  not  find  the  entrance  of 
the  cavern  before  they  were  caught" 

This  story  is  also  told  by  William  of  Newbridge,  who 
places  it  in  the  reign  of  King  Stephea  He  says  he  long 
hesitated  to  believe  it,  but  he  was  at  length  overcome  by  the 
weight  of  evidence.  According  to  him,  the  place  where  the 
children  appeared  was  about  four  or  five  miles  from  Bury  St 
Edmund's.  They  came  in  harvest-time  out  of  the  Wolf-pits; 
they  both  lost  their  green  hue,  and  were  baptised,  and 
learned  English.  The  boy,  who  was  the  younger,  died ;  but 
the  girl  married  a  man  at  Lenna,  and  lived  many  years. 
They  said  their  country  was  called  St  Martin's  Land,  as 

11 


134    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

that  saint  was  chiefly  worshipped  there;  that  the  people  were 
Christians,  and  had  churches;  that  the  sun  did  not  rise 
there,  but  that  there  was  a  bright  country  which  could  be 
seen  from  theirs,  being  divided  from  it  by  a  very  broad 
river. 


THE  FAIRY  BANQUET. ^ 

In  the  next  chapter  of  his  history,  William  of  Newbridge 
relates  as  follows : — 

•'  In  the  province  of  Deiri  (Yorkshire),  not  far  from 
my  birthplace,  a  wonderful  thing  occurred,  which  I  have 
known  from  my  boyhood.  There  is  a  town  a  few  miles 
distant  from  the  Eastern  Sea,  near  which  are  those  cele- 
brated waters  commonly  called  Gipse.  ...  A  peasant 
of  this  town  went  once  to  see  a  friend  who  lived  in  the 
next  town,  and  it  was  late  at  night  when  he  was  coming 
back,  not  very  sober ;  when  lo !  from  the  adjoining  barrow, 
which  I  have  often  seen,  and  which  is  not  much  over  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  town,  he  heard  the  voices  of 
people  singing,  and,  as  it  were,  joyfully  feasting.  He 
wondered  who  they  could  be  that  were  breaking  in  that 
place,  by  their  merriment,  the  silence  of  the  dead  night, 
and  he  wished  to  examine  into  the  matter  more  closely. 
Seeing  a  door  open  in  the  side  of  the  barrow,  he  went 
up  to  it,  and  looked  in ;  and  there  he  beheld  a  large  and 
luminous  house,  full  of  people,  women  as  well  as  men, 
who  were  reclining  as  at  a  solemn  banquet.  One  of  the 
attendants,  seeing  him  standing  at  the  door,  offered  him 
a  cup.  He  took  it,  but  would  not  drink;  and,  pouring 
out  the  contents,  kept  the  vessel.  A  great  tumult  arose 
at  the  banquet  on  account  of  his  taking  away  the  cup, 
and  all  the  guests  pursued  him;  but  he  escaped  by  the 

^  T.  Keightley,  Tkf  Fairy  Mythology,  p.  283,  quoting  William  of 
Newbridge. 


136     ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES, 

fleetness  of  the  beast  he  rode,  and  got  into  the  town  with 
his  booty.  Finally,  this  vessel  of  unknown  material,  of 
unusual  colour,  and  of  extraordinary  form,  was  presented 
to  Henry  the  Elder,  king  of  the  English,  as  a  valuable 
gift,  and  was  then  given  to  the  queen's  brother  David, 
king  of  the  Scots,  and  was  kept  for  several  years  in  the 
treasury  of  Scotland ;  and  a  few  years  ago  (as  I  have  heard 
from  good  authority),  it  was  given  by  William,  king  of  the 
Scots,  to  Henry  the  Second,  who  wished  to  see  it." 


THE  FAIRY  HORN.i 

There  is  in  the  county  of  Gloucester  a  forest  abounding 
in  boars,  stags,  and  every  species  of  game  that  England 
produces.  In  a  grovy  lawn  of  this  forest  there  is  a  little 
mount,  rising  in  a  point  to  the  height  of  a  man,  on  which 
knights  and  other  hunters  are  used  to  ascend  when  fatigued 
with  heat  and  thirst,  to  seek  some  reHef  for  their  wants. 
The  nature  of  the  place,  and  of  the  business,  is  however 
such  that  whoever  ascends  the  mount  must  leave  his  com- 
panions, and  go  quite  alone. 

When  alone,  he  was  to  say,  as  if  speaking  to  some  other 
person,  •'!  thirst,"  and  immediately  there  would  appear  a 
cup-bearer  in  an  elegant  dress,  with  a  cheerful  countenance, 
bearing  in  his  stretched-out  hand  a  large  horn,  adorned  with 
gold  and  gems,  as  was  the  custom  among  the  most  ancient 
English.  In  the  cup  nectar  of  an  unknown  but  most 
delicious  flavour  was  presented,  and  when  it  was  drunk, 
all  heat  and  weariness  fled  from  the  glowing  body,  so 
that  one  would  be  thought  ready  to  undertake  toil  instead 
of  having  toiled.  Moreover,  when  the  nectar  was  taken, 
the  servant  presented  a  towel  to  the  drinker,  to  wipe  his 
mouth  with,  and  then  having  performed  his  office,  he 
waited  neither  for  a  recompense  for  his  services,  nor  for 
questions  and  inquiry. 

This    frequent    and    daily  action  had  for  a  very  long 

^  T.  Keightley,  The  Fairy  Mythology^  p.  284,  quoting  Gervase  of 

Tilbury. 


138    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

period  of  old  times  taken  place  among  the  ancient  people, 
till  one  day  a  knight  of  that  city,  when  out  hunting,  went 
thither,  and  having  called  for  a  drink  and  gotten  the  horn, 
did  not,  as  was  the  custom,  and  as  in  good  manners  he 
should  have  done,  return  it  to  the  cup-bearer,  but  kept 
it  for  his  own  use.  But  the  illustrious  Earl  of  Gloucester, 
when  he  learned  the  truth  of  the  matter,  condemned  the 
robber  to  death,  and  presented  the  horn  to  the  most 
excellent  King  Henry  the  Elder,  lest  he  should  be  thought 
to  have  approved  of  such  wickedness,  if  he  had  added 
the  rapine  of  another  to  the  store  of  his  private  property. 


THE  FAIRY  FAIR.i 

Reading  once  the  eighteenth  of  ^[r.  Glanvil's  relations, 
p.  203,  concerning  an  Irishman  that  had  Hke  to  have  been 
carried  away  by  spirits,  and  of  the  banquet  they  had  spread 
before  them  in  the  fields,  etc.,  it  called  to  mind  a  passage 
I  had  often  heard,  of  Fairies  or  spirits,  so  called  by  the 
country  people,  which  showed  themselves  in  great  companies 
at  divers  times.  At  some  times  they  would  seem  to  dance, 
at  other  times  to  keep  a  great  fair  or  market  I  made  it 
my  business  to  inquire  amongst  the  neighbours  what  credit 
might  be  given  to  that  which  was  reported  of  them,  and 
by  many  of  the  neighbouring  inhabitants  I  had  this  account 
confirmed. 

The  place  near  which  they  most  ordinarily  showed 
themselves  was  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  named  Black-down, 
between  the  parishes  of  Pittminster  and  Chestonford,  not 
many  miles  from  Tanton.  Those  that  have  had  occasion 
to  travel  that  way  have  frequently  seen  them  there,  appear- 
ing like  men  and  women,  of  a  stature  generally  near 
the  smaller  size  of  men.  Their  habits  used  to  be  of  red, 
blue,  or  green,  according  to  the  old  way  of  country  garb, 
with  high  crowned  hats.  One  time,  about  fifty  years  since, 
a  person  living  at  Comb  St.  Nicholas,  a  parish  lying  on 
one  side  of  that  hill,   near  Chard,   was  riding    towards 

^  T,  Kcightley,  The  Fairy  Mythology^  p.  294,  quoting  Bovct's 
Pandemonium.. 


T40  ENGLISH  FOLK 

his  home  that  way,  and  saw,  just  before  him,  ou  the  side 
of  the  hill,  a  great  company  of  people,  that  seemed  to 
him  like  country  folks  assembled  as  at  a  fair.  There 
were  all  sorts  of  commodities,  to  his  appearance,  as  at 
our  ordinary  fairs:  pewterers,  shoemakers,  pedlars,  with 
all  kind  of  trinkets,  fruit,  and  drinking-booths.  He  could 
not  remember  anything  which  he  had  usually  seen  at 
fairs  but  what  he  saw  there.  It  was  once  in  his  thoughts 
that  it  might  be  some  fair  for  Chestonford,  there  being  a 
considerable  one  at  some  time  of  the  year ;  but  then  again 
he  considered  that  it  was  not  the  season  for  it.  He  was 
under  very  great  surprise,  and  admired  what  the  meaning  of 
what  he  saw  should  be.  At  length  it  came  into  his  mind 
what  he  had  heard  concerning  the  Fairies  on  the  side  of  that 
hill,  and  it  being  near  the  road  he  was  to  take,  he  resolved 
to  ride  in  amongst  them,  and  see  what  they  were.  Accord- 
ingly he  put  on  his  horse  that  way,  and  though  he  saw  them 
perfectly  all  along  as  he  came,  yet  when  he  was  upon  the 
place  where  all  this  had  appeared  to  him,  he  could  discern 
nothing  at  all,  only  seemed  to  be  crowded  and  thrust,  as 
when  one  passes  through  a  throng  of  people.  All  the  rest 
became  invisible  to  him  until  he  came  to  a  little  distance, 
and  then  it  appeared  to  him  again  as  at  first.  He  found 
himself  in  pain,  and  so  hastened  home;  where,  being 
arrived,  lameness  seized  him  all  on  one  side,  which  continued 
on  him  as  long  as  he  lived,  which  was  many  years,  for  he 
was  living  in  Comb,  and  gave  an  account  to  any  that 
inquired  of  this  accident  for  more  than  twenty  years  after- 
wards; and  this  relation  I  had  from  a  person  of  known 
honour,  who  had  it  from  the  man  himself. 

There  were  some  whose  names  I  have  now  forgot,  but 
they  then  lived  at  a  gentleman's  house,  named  Comb  Farm, 
near  the  place  before  specified.     Both  the  man,  his  wife. 


AND  FAIRY  TALES,  141 

and  divers  of  the  neighbours  assured  me  they  had  at  many 
times  seen  this  fair-keeping  in  the  summer-time,  as  they 
came  from  Tanton  market,  but  that  they  durst  not  adven- 
ture in  amongst  them,  for  that  every  one  that  had  done  so 
had  received  great  damage  by  it. 


THE  FAIRIES'  CALDRON. i 

In  the  vestry  of  Frensham  Church,  in  Surrey,  on  the  north 
side  of  the  chancel,  is  an  extraordinary  great  kettle  or 
caldron,  which  the  inhabitants  say,  by  tradition,  was  brought 
hither  by  the  fairies,  time  out  of  mind,  from  Borough-hill 
about  a  mile  hence.  To  this  place,  if  any  one  went  to 
borrow  a  yoke  of  oxen,  money,  etc.,  he  might  have  it  for  a 
year  or  longer,  so  he  kept  his  word  to  return  it.  There  is 
a  cave  where  some  have  fancied  to  hear  music.  In  this 
Borough-hill  is  a  great  stone  lying  along  of  the  length  of 
about  six  feet  They  went  to  this  stone  and  knocked  at  it, 
and  declared  what  they  would  borrow,  and  when  they  would 
repay,  and  a  voice  would  answer  when  they  should  come, 
and  that  they  should  find  what  they  desired  to  borrow  at 
that  stone.  This  caldron,  with  the  trivet,  was  borrowed 
here  after  the  manner  aforesaid,  and  not  returned  according 
to  promise ;  and  though  the  caldron  was  afterwards  carried 
to  the  stone,  it  could  not  be  received,  and  ever  since  that 
time  no  borrowing  there. 

^  T.  Keightley,   The  Fairy  Mythology^  p.   295,  quoting  Aubrey's 
Natural  History  of  Surrey. 


THE  CAULD  LAD  OF  HILTON.^ 

Hilton  Hall,  in  the  vale  of  the  Wear,  was  in  former 
times  the  resort  of  a  Brownie  or  House-spirit,  called  The 
Cauld  Lad.  Every  night  the  servants  who  slept  in  the 
great  hall  heard  him  at  work  in  the  kitchen,  knocking 
the  things  about  if  they  had  been  set  in  order,  arranging 
them  if  otherwise,  which  was  more  frequently  the  case. 
They  were  resolved  to  banish  him  if  they  could,  and  the 
spirit,  who  seemed  to  have  an  inkling  of  their  design,  was 
often  heard  singing  in  a  melancholy  tone : 

"  Wae's  me  I  wae's  me  I 
The  acorn  is  not  yet 
Fallen  from  the  tree, 
That's  to  grow  the  wood, 
That's  to  make  the  cradle. 
That's  to  rock  the  bairn, 
That's  to  grow  to  a  man, 
That's  to  lay  me." 

The  servants,  however,  resorted  to  the  usual  mode  of 
^/anishing  a  Brownie :  they  left  a  green  cloak  and  hood 
for  him  by  the  kitchen  fire,  and  remained  on  the  watch. 
They  saw  him  come  in,  gaze  at  the  new  clothes,  try  them 
on,  and,  apparently  in  great  delight,  go  jumping  and 
frisking  about  the  kitchen.  But  at  the  first  crow  of  the 
cock  he  vanished,  crying : 

^  T.  Keighlley,  The  Fairy  Mythology,  p.  296,  quoting  M.  A, 
Richardson,  The  Local  Historian  s  Table-Book, 


144    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

"  Here's  a  cloak,  and  here's  a  hood  I 
The  Cauld  Lad  of  Hilton  will  do  no  more  good ;  " 

and  he  never  again  returned  to  the  kitchen;  yet  it  was 
said  that  he  might  still  be  heard  at  midnight  singing  those 
lines  in  a  tone  of  melancholy. 

There  was  a  room  in  the  castle  long  called  the  Cauld 
Lad's  Room,  which  was  never  occupied  unless  the  castle 
was  full  of  company,  and  within  the  last  century  many 
persons  of  credit  had  heard  of  the  midnight  wailing  of 
the  Cauld  Lad,  who  some  maintained  was  the  spirit  of  a 
servant  whom  one  of  the  barons  of  Hilton  had  killed 
unintentionally  in  a  fit  of  passion. 


THE  FAIRY  THIEVES.^ 

A  FARMER  in  Hampshire  was  sorely  distressed  by  the 
unsettling  of  his  barn.  However  straightly  over-night  he 
laid  his  sheaves  on  the  threshing-floor  for  the  application  of 
the  morning's  flail,  when  morning  came  all  was  topsy-turvy, 
higgledy-piggledy,  though  the  door  remained  locked,  and 
there  was  no  sign  whatever  of  irregular  entry.  Resolved  to 
find  out  who  played  him  these  mischievous  pranks,  Hodge 
couched  himself  one  night  deeply  among  the  sheaves,  and 
watched  for  the  enemy.  At  length  midnight  arrived,  the 
barn  was  illuminated  as  if  by  moonbeams  of  wonderful 
brightness,  and  through  the  key-hole  came  thousands  of 
elves,  the  most  diminutive  that  could  be  imagined.  They 
immediately  began  their  gambols  among  the  straw,  which 
was  soon  in  a  most  admired  disorder.  Hodge  wondered, 
but  interfered  not;  but  at  last  the  supernatural  thieves 
began  to  busy  themselves  in  a  way  still  less  to  his  taste,  for 
each  elf  set  about  conveying  the  crop  away,  a  straw  at  a 
time,  with  astonishing  activity  and  perseverance.  The  key- 
hole was  still  their  port  of  egress  and  regress,  and  it 
resembled  the  aperture  of  a  bee-hive  on  a  sunny  day  in 
June.  The  farmer  was  rather  annoyed  at  seeing  his  grain 
vanish  in  this  fashion,  when   one   of  the  fairies   said   to 

1  T.  Keightley,  The  Fairy  Mythology,  p.  305,  quoting  the  Literary 
Gazette  for  1825. 


146     ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

another  in  the  tiniest  voice  that  ever  was  heard :  "  /  iveat, 
you  weatV^  Hodge  could  contain  himself  no  longer.  lie 
leaped  out  crying,  "  The  devil  sweat  ye.  Let  me  get  among 
ye  ! "  when  they  all  flew  away  so  frightened  that  they  never 
disturbed  the  bam  any  more. 


THE  BOGGART.  1 

In  the  house  of  an  honest  farmer  in  Yorkshire,  named 
George  Gilbertson,  a  Boggart  had  taken  up  his  abode. 
He  here  caused  a  good  deal  of  annoyance,  especially  by 
tormenting  the  children  in  various  ways.  Sometimes  their 
bread  and  butter  would  be  snatched  away,  or  their  por- 
ringers of  bread  and  milk  be  capsized  by  an  invisible 
hand ;  for  the  Boggart  never  let  himself  be  seen ;  at  other 
times  the  curtains  of  their  beds  would  be  shaken  back- 
wards and  forwards,  or  a  heavy  weight  would  press  on 
and  nearly  suffocate  them.  The  parents  had  often,  on 
hearing  their  cries,  to  fly  to  their  aid.  There  was  a  kind 
of  closet,  formed  by  a  wooden  partition  on  the  kitchen 
stairs,  and  a  large  knot  having  been  driven  out  of  one 
of  the  deal-boards  of  which  it  was  made,  there  remained 
a  hole.  Into  this  one  day  the  farmer's  youngest  boy 
stuck  the  shoe-horn  with  which  he  was  amusing  himself, 
when  immediately  it  was  thrown  out  again,  and  struck  the 
boy  on  the  head.  The  agent  was  of  course  the  Boggart, 
and  it  soon  became  their  sport  (which  they  called  taking 
with  Boggarf)  to  put  the  shoe-horn  into  the  hole  and 
have  it  shot  back  at  them. 

The  Boggart  at  length  proved  such  a  torment  that  the 
farmer  and  his  wife  resolved  to  quit  the  house  and  let  him 
have  it  all  to  himself.     This  was  put  into  execution,  and 

^  T.  Keightley,  The  Fairy  Mytholosv^  p.  307,  quoting  the  Literary 
Gazette  for  1825. 


148    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

the  farmer  and  his  family  were  following  the  last  loads 
of  furniture,  when  a  neighbour  named  John  Marshall  came 
up:  "Well,  Georgey,"  said  he,  "and  soa  you're  leaving 
t'ould  hoose  at  last  ?  " — "  Heigh,  Johnny,  my  lad,  I'm 
forced  tull  it;  for  that  villain  Boggart  torments  us  soa, 
we  can  neither  rest  neet  nor  day  for't.  It  seems  loike 
to  have  such  a  malice  again  t'poor  bairns,  it  ommost  kills 
my  poor  dame  here  at  thoughts  on't,  and  soa,  ye  see,  we're 
forced  to  flitt  loike."  He  scarce  had  uttered  the  words 
when  a  voice  from  a  deep  upright  churn  cried  out :  "Aye, 
aye,  Georgey,  we're  flitting,  ye  see." — "Od  hang  thee," 
cried  the  poor  farmer,  "if  I'd  known  thou'd  been  there, 
I  wadn't  ha'  stirred  a  peg.  Nay,  nay,  it's  no  use,  Mally," 
turning  to  his  wife,  "  we  may  as  weel  turn  back  again  to 
t'ould  hoose  as  be  tormented  in  another  that's  not  so 
convenient." 


AINSEL.1 

A  WIDOW  and  her  son,  a  little  boy,  lived  together  in  a 
cottage  in  or  near  the  village  of  Rothley,  Northumberland. 
One  winter's  evening  the  child  refused  to  go  to  bed  with  his 
mother,  as  he  wished  to  sit  up  for  a  while  longer,  "  for," 
said  he,  "  I  am  not  sleepy."  The  mother,  finding  remon- 
strance in  vain,  at  last  told  him  that  if  he  sat  up  by  himself 
the  fairies  would  most  certainly  come  and  take  him  away. 
The  boy  laughed  as  his  mother  went  to  bed,  leaving  him 
sitting  by  the  fire.  He  had  not  been  there  long,  watching 
the  fire  and  enjoying  its  cheerful  warmth,  till  a  beautiful 
little  figure,  about  the  size  of  a  child's  doll,  descended  the 
chimney  and  alighted  on  the  hearth !  The  little  fellow  was 
somewhat  startled  at  first,  but  its  prepossessing  smile  as  it 
paced  to  and  fro  before  him  soon  overcame  his  fears,  and 
he  inquired  familiarly:  "What  do  they  ca' thou  ?**  "Ainsel," 
answered  the  little  thing  haughtily,  at  the  same  time  retort- 
ing the  question  :  "  And  what  do  they  ca'  thou  f "  "  My 
ainsel,"  answered  the  boy;  and  they  commenced  playing 
together  like  two  children  newly  acquainted.  Their  gambols 
continued  quite  innocently  until  the  fire  began  to  grow  dim ; 
the  boy  then  took  up  the  poker  to  stir  it,  when  a  hot  cinder 
accidentally  fell  upon  the  foot  of  his  playmate.  Her  tiny 
voice  was  instantly  raised  to  a  most  terrific  roar,  and  the  boy 
had  scarcely  time  to  crouch  into  the  bed  behind  his  mother, 

^  T.    Keightley,    The  Fairy  Mythology,    p.    313,    quoting  M.  A. 
Richardson,  The  Local  Historian's  Table-Book. 

12 


I50    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

before  the  voice  of  the  old  fairy-mother  was  heard  shouting: 
"Who's  done  it?  Who's  done  it?"  "Oh!  it  was  my 
ainsel ! "  answered  the  daughter.  "  Why,  then,"  said  the 
mother,  as  she  kicked  her  up  the  chimney,  "  what's  all  this 
noise  for ;  there's  nyon  (i.e.^  no  one)  to  blame." 


LEGEND  OF  THE  ROLLRIGHT  STONES,  i 

Not  far  from  the  borders  of  Gloucestershire  and  Oxford- 
shire, and  within  the  latter  county,  is  the  pretty  village  of 
Rollright,  and  near  the  village,  up  a  hill,  stands  a  circle  of 
small  stones,  and  one  larger  stone,  such  as  our  Celtic  anti- 
quaries say  were  raised  by  the  Druids.  As  soon  as  the  Druids 
left  them,  the  fairies,  who  never  failed  to  take  possession  of 
their  deserted  shrines,  seemed  to  have  had  an  especial  care 
over  these  stones,  and  any  one  who  ventures  to  meddle 
with  them  is  sure  to  meet  with  some  very  great  misfortune. 
The- old  people  of  the  village,  however,  who  generally  know 
most  about  these  matters,  say  the  stones  were  once  a  king 
and  his  knights,  who  were  going  to  make  war  on  the  king 
of  England ;  and  they  assert  that,  according  to  old 
prophecies,  had  they  ever  reached  Long  Compton,  the 
king  of  England  must  inevitably  have  been  dethroned,  and 
this  king  would  have  reigned  in  his  place,  but  when  they 
came  to  the  village  of  Rollright  they  were  suddenly  turned 
into  stones  in  the  place  where  they  now  stand.  Be  this  as 
it  may,  there  was  once  a  farmer  in  the  village  who  wanted  a 
large  stone  to  put  in  a  particular  position  in  an  outhouse  he 
was  building  in  his  farmyard,  and  he  thought  that  one  of 
the  old  knights  would  be  just  the  thing  for  him.  In  spite 
of  all  the  warnings  of  his  neighbours  he  determined  to 
have  the  stone  he  wanted,  and  he  put  four  horses  to  his 
best  waggon  and  proceeded  up  the  hill.     With  much  labour 

1  Folk- Lore  Record,  vol.  ii.  p.  177. 


152     ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

he  succeeded  in  getting  the  stone  into  his  waggon,  and 
though  the  road  lay  down  hill,  it  was  so  heavy  that  his 
waggon  was  broken  and  his  horses  were  killed  by  the  labour 
of  drawing  it  home.  Nothing  daunted  by  all  these  mishaps, 
the  farmer  raised  the  stone  to  the  place  it  was  to  occupy  in 
his  new  building.  From  this  moment  everything  went 
wrong  with  him,  his  crops  failed  year  after  year,  his  cattle 
died  one  after  another,  he  was  obliged  to  mortgage  his  land 
and  to  sell  his  waggons  and  horses,  till  at  last  he  had  left 
only  one  poor  broken-down  horse  which  nobody  would  buy, 
and  one  old  crazy  cart.  Suddenly  the  thought  came  into 
his  head  that  all  his  misfortunes  might  be  owing  to  the 
identical  stone  which  he  had  brought  from  the  circle  at  the 
top  of  the  hill.  He  thought  he  would  try  to  get  it  back 
again,  and  his  only  horse  was  put  to  the  cart.  To  his 
surprise  he  got  the  stone  down  and  lifted  it  into  the  cart 
with  very  little  trouble,  and,  as  soon  as  it  was  in,  the  horse, 
which  could  scarcely  bear  along  its  own  limbs,  now  drew  it 
up  the  hill  of  its  own  accord  with  as  little  trouble  as  another 
horse  would  draw  an  empty  cart  on  level  ground,  until  it 
came  to  the  very  spot  where  the  stone  had  formerly  stood 
beside  its  companions.  The  stone  was  soon  in  its  place, 
and  the  horse  and  cart  returned  home,  and  from  that 
moment  the  farmer's  affairs  began  to  improve,  till  in  a  short 
time  he  was  a  richer  and  more  substantial  man  than  he  had 
ever  been  befora 


GOBLINS. 


DANDO  AND  HIS  DOGS.i 

In  the  neighbourhood  of  the  lovely  village  of  St.  Germans 
formerly  lived  a  priest  connected  with  the  old  priory 
church  of  this  parish,  whose  life  does  not  appear  to  have 
been  quite  consistent  with  his  vows. 

He  lived  the  life  of  the  traditional  "jolly  friar."  He  ate 
and  drank  of  the  best  the  land  could  give  him,  or  money 
buy;  and  it  is  said  that  his  indulgences  extended  far  beyond 
the  ordinary  limits  of  good  living.  The  priest  Dando  was, 
notwithstanding  all  his  vices,  a  man  liked  by  the  people. 
He  was  good-natured,  and  therefore  blind  to  many  of  their 
sins.  Indeed,  he  threw  a  cloak  over  his  own  iniquities, 
which  was  inscribed  "charity,"  and  he  freely  forgave  all 
those  who  came  to  his  confessional. 

As  a  man  increases  in  years  he  becomes  more  deeply 
dyed  with  the  polluted  waters  through  which  he  may  have 
waded.  It  rarely  happens  that  an  old  sinner  is  ever  a 
repentant  one,  until  the  decay  of  nature  has  reduced  him  to 
a  state  of  second  childhood.  As  long  as  health  allows  him 
to  enjoy  the  sensualities  of  life,  he  continues  to  gratify  his 
passions,  regardless  of  the  cost.     He  becomes  more  selfish, 

^  Robert  Hunt,  Popular  Eomanccs  of  the  West  of  EnglaTid,  ist 
series,  p.  247. 


154  ENGLISH  FOLK 

and  his  own  gratification  is  the  rule  of  his  existence.  So  it 
has  ever  been,  and  so  was  it  with  Dando. 

The  sinful  priest  was  a  capital  huntsman,  and  scoured  the 
country  far  and  near  in  pursuit  of  game,  which  was  in  those 
days  abundant  and  varied  over  this  well-wooded  district. 
Dando,  in  the  eagerness  of  the  chase,  paid  no  regard  to  any 
kind  of  property.  Many  a  corn-field  has  been  trampled 
down,  and  many  a  cottage  garden  destroyed  by  the  horses 
and  dogs  which  this  impetuous  hunter  would  lead  unthink- 
ingly over  them.  Curses  deep,  though  not  loud,  would 
follow  the  old  man,  as  even  those  who  suffered  by  his 
excesses  were  still  in  fear  of  his  priestly  power. 

Any  man  may  sell  his  soul  to  the  devil  without  going 
through  the  stereotyped  process  of  signing  a  deed  with  his 
blood.  Give  up  your  soul  to  Satan's  darling  sins,  and  he 
will  help  you  for  a  season,  until  he  has  his  claims  carefully 
wound  around  you,  when  the  links  are  suddenly  closed,  and 
he  seizes  his  victim,  who  has  no  power  to  resist. 

Dando  worshipped  the  sensual  gods  which  he  had 
created,  and  his  external  worship  of  the  God  of  truth  became 
every  year  more  and  more  a  hypocritical  lie.  The  devil 
looked  carefully  after  his  prize.  Of  course  to  catch  a 
dignitary  of  the  church  was  a  thing  to  cause  rejoicings 
amongst  the  lost;  and  Dando  was  carefully  lured  to  the 
undoing  of  his  souL  Health  and  wealth  were  secured  to 
him,  and  by-and-by  the  measure  of  his  sins  was  full,  and  he 
was  left  the  victim  to  self-indulgences — a  doomed  man. 
With  increasing  years,  and  the  immunities  he  enjoyed, 
Dando  became  more  reckless.  Wine  and  wassail,  a  board 
groaning  with  dishes  which  stimulated  the  sated  appetite, 
and  the  company  of  both  sexes  of  dissolute  habits, 
exhausted  his  nights.  His  days  were  devoted  to  the  pur- 
suits of  the  field ;  and  to  maintain  the  required  excitement, 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  155 

ardent  drinks  were  supplied  him  by  his  wicked  companions. 
It  mattered  not  to  Dando — provided  the  day  was  an 
auspicious  one,  if  the  scent  would  lie  on  the  ground — even 
on  the  Sabbath,  horses  and  hounds  were  ordered  out,  and 
the  priest  would  be  seen  in  full  cry. 

One  Sabbath  morning  Dando  and  his  riotous  rout  were 
hunting  over  the  Earth  estate ;  game  was  plenty,  and  sport 
first-rate.  Exhausted  with  a  long  and  eager  run,  Dando 
called  for  drink.  He  had  already  exhausted  the  flasks  of 
the  attendant  hunters. 

"  Drink,  I  say ;  give  me  drink,"  he  cried. 

"  Whence  can  we  get  it  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  gang. 

"  Go  to  hell  for  it,  if  you  can't  get  it  on  Earth,"  said  the 
priest,  with  a  bitter  laugh  at  his  own  joke  on  the  Earth 
estate. 

At  the  moment,  a  dashing  hunter,  who  had  mingled  with 
the  throng  unobserved,  came  forward,  and  presented  a 
richly-mounted  flask  to  Dando,  saying: 

"  Here  is  some  choice  liquor  distilled  in  the  establish- 
ment you  speak  of.  It  will  warm  and  revive  you,  I'll 
warrant.     Drink  deep ;  friend,  drink." 

Dando  drank  deep;  the  flask  appeared  to  cling  to  his 
lips.  The  stranger  hunter  looked  on  with  a  rejoicing  yet 
malignant  expression ; — a  wicked  smile  playing  over  an 
otherwise  tranquil  face. 

By-and-by  Dando  fetched  a  deep  sigh,  and  removed  the 
flask,  exclaiming  :  "  That  was  a  drink  indeed.  Do  the  gods 
drink  such  nectar?" 

"  Devils  do,"  said  the  hunter. 

"  An  they  do,  I  wish  I  were  one,"  said  Dando,  who  now 
rocked  to  and   fro  in  a  state  of  thorough   intoxication, 

"  methinks    the   drink   is   very   like "      The    impious 

expression  died  upon  his  lips. 


156  ENGLISH  FOLK 

Looking  round  with  a  half-idiotic  stare,  Dando  saw  that 
his  new  friend  had  appropriated  several  head  of  game. 
Notwithstanding  his  stupid  intoxication,  his  selfishness 
asserted  its  power,  and  he  seized  the  game,  exclaiming,  in  a 
guttural,  half-smothered  voice :  "  None  of  these  are  thine." 

"What  I  catch  I  keep,"  said  the  hunter. 

"They're  mine,"  stammered  Dando. 

The  hunter  quietly  bowed. 

Dando's  wrath  burst  at  once  into  a  burning  flame,  uncon- 
trolled by  reason.  He  rolled  himself  off  his  horse,  and 
rushed,  staggering  as  he  went,  at  the  steed  of  his  unknown 
friend,  uttering  most  frightful  oaths  and  curses. 

The  strange  hunter's  horse  was  a  splendid  creature,  black 
as  night,  and  its  eyes  gleamed  like  the  brightest  stars,  with 
unnatural  lustre.  The  horse  was  turned  adroitly  aside,  and 
Dando  fell  to  the  earth  with  much  force.  The  fall  appeared 
to  add  to  his  fury,  and  he  roared  with  rage.  Aided  by  his 
attendants,  he  was  speedily  on  his  legs,  and  again  at  the 
side  of  the  hunter,  who  shook  with  laughter,  shaking  the 
game  in  derision,  and  quietly  uttering :  "  They're  mine." 

"  I'll  go  to  hell  after  them,  but  I'll  get  them  from  thee," 
shouted  Dando. 

"  So  thou  shalt,"  said  the  hunter ;  and  seizing  Dando  by 
the  collar,  he  lifted  him  from  the  ground,  and  placed  him, 
as  though  he  were  a  child,  before  him  on  the  horse. 

With  a  dash,  the  horse  passed  down  the  hill,  its  hoofs 
striking  fire  at  every  tread,  and  the  dogs,  barking  furiously, 
followed  impetuously.  These  strange  riders  reached  the 
banks  of  the  Lynher,  and  with  a  terrific  leap,  the  horse  and 
its  riders,  followed  by  the  hounds,  went  out  far  in  its 
waters,  disappearing  at  length  in  a  blaze  of  fire,  which 
caused  the  stream  to  boil  for  a  moment,  and  then  the 
waters  flowed  on  as  tranquilly  as  ever  over  the  doomed 


AND  FAIRY  TALES,  157 

priest.  All  this  happened  in  the  sight  of  the  assembled 
peasantry.  Dando  never  more  was  seen,  and  his  fearful 
death  was  received  as  a  warning  by  many,  who  gave  gifts  to 
the  church.  One  amongst  them  carved  a  chair  for  the 
bishop,  and  on  it  he  represented  Dando  and  his  dogs,  that 
the  memory  of  his  wickedness  might  be  always  renewed. 
There,  in  St.  Germans'  church,  stands  to  this  day  the  chair, 
and  all  who  doubt  the  truth  of  this  tradition  may  view  the 
story  carved  in  enduring  oak.  If  they  please,  they  can  sit 
in  the  chair  until  their  faith  is  so  var  quickened  that  they 
become  true  believers.  On  Sunday  mornings,  early,  the 
dogs  of  the  priest  have  been  often  heard  as  if  in  eager 
pursuit  of  game.  Cheney's  hounds  and  the  Wish  hounds 
of  Dartmoor  are  but  other  versions  of  the  same  legend. 


THE  DEMON  TREGEAGLE.^ 

"  Thrice  he  b^an  to  tell  his  doleful  tale, 
And  thrice  the  sighs  did  swallow  up  his  voice." 

Thomas  Sackville. 

Who  has  not  heard  of  the  wild  spirit  Tregeagle?  He 
haunts  equally  the  moor,  the  rocky  coasts,  and  the  blown 
sand-hills  of  Cornwall.  From  north  to  south,  from  east  to 
west,  this  doomed  spirit  is  heard  of,  and  to  the  day  of 
judgment  he  is  doomed  to  wander,  pursued  by  avenging 
fiends.  For  ever  endeavouring  to  perform  some  task  by 
which  he  hopes  to  secure  repose,  and  being  for  ever 
defeated.  Who  has  not  heard  the  howling  of  Tregeagle  ? 
When  the  storms  come  with  all  their  strength  from  the 
Atlantic,  and  urge  themselves  upon  the  rocks  around  the 
Land's  End,  the  howls  of  the  spirit  are  louder  than  the 
roaring  of  the  winds.  When  calms  rest  upon  the  ocean, 
and  the  waves  can  scarcely  form  upon  the  resting  waters,  low 
wailings  creep  along  the  coast.  These  are  the  wailings  of 
this  wandering  soul.  When  midnight  is  on  the  moor,  or  on 
the  mountains,  and  the  night  winds  whistle  amidst  the 
rugged  cairns,  the  shrieks  of  Tregeagle  are  distinctly  heard. 
We  know  then  that  he  is  pursued  by  the  demon  dogs, 
and  that  till  daybreak  he  must  fly  with  all  speed  before 
them.  The  voice  of  Tregeagle  is  everywhere,  and  yet  he  is 
unseen  by  human  eye.     Every  reader  will  at  once  perceive 

^  Robert  Hunt,   Popular  Rotnances  of  the   West  of  England,   1st 
series,  p.  133. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.     159 

that  Tregeagle  belongs  to  the  mythologies  of  the  oldest 
nations,  and  that  the  traditions  of  this  wandering  spirit  in 
Cornwall,  which  centre  upon  one  tyrannical  magistrate,  are 
but  the  appropriation  of  stories  which  belong  to  every  age 
and  country.     Tradition  thus  tells  Tregeagle's  tale. 

There  are  some  men  who  appear  to  be  from  their  births 
given  over  to  the  will  of  tormenting  demons.  Such  a  man 
was  Tregeagle.  He  is  as  old  as  the  hills,  yet  there  are 
many  circumstances  in  the  story  of  his  life  which  appear  to 
remove  him  from  this  remote  antiquity.  Modern  legends 
assert  him  to  belong  to  comparatively  modern  times,  and 
say  that,  without  doubt,  he  was  one  of  the  Tregeagles  who 
once  owned  Trevorder,  near  Bodmin.  We  have  not,  how- 
ever, much  occasion  to  trouble  ourselves  with  the  man  or 
his  life ;  it  is  with  the  death  and  the  subsequent  existence 
of  a  myth  that  we  are  concerned. 

Certain  it  is  that  the  man  Tregeagle  was  diabolically 
wicked.  He  seems  to  have  been  urged  on  from  one  crime 
to  another  until  the  cup  of  sin  was  overflowing. 

Tregeagle  was  wealthy  beyond  most  men  of  his  time, 
and  his  wealth  purchased  for  him  that  immunity  which 
the  Church,  in  her  degenerate  days,  too  often  accorded 
to  those  who  could  aid  the  priesthood  with  their  gold 
or  power.  As  a  magistrate  he  was  tyrannical  and  unjust, 
and  many  an  innocent  man  was  wantonly  sacrificed 
by  him  for  the  purpose  of  hiding  his  own  dark  deeds. 
As  a  landlord  he  was  rapacious  and  unscrupulous,  and 
frequently  so  involved  his  tenents  in  his  toils  that 
they  could  not  escape  his  grasp.  The  stain  of  secret 
murder  clings  to  his  memory,  and  he  is  said  to  have 
sacrificed  a  sister  whose  goodness  stood  between  him 
and  his  demon  passions;  his  wife  and  children  perished 
victims  to  his  cruelties.     At  length  death  drew  near  to 


i6o  ENGLISH  FOLK 

relieve  the  land  of  a  monster  whose  name  was  a  terror 
to  all  who  heard  it.  Devils  waited  to  secure  the  soul 
they  had  won,  and  Tregeagle  in  terror  gave  to  the  priest- 
hood wealth,  that  they  might  fight  with  them  and  save  his 
soul  from  eternal  fire.  Desperate  was  the  struggle,  but 
the  powerful  exorcisms  of  the  banded  brotherhood  of  a 
neighbouring  monastery  drove  back  the  evil  ones,  and 
Tregeagle  slept  with  his  fathers,  safe  in  the  custody  of  the 
churchmen  who  buried  him  with  high  honours  in  St  Breock 
Church.  They  sang  chants  and  read  prayers  above  his 
grave,  to  secure  the  soul  which  they  thought  they  had 
saved.  But  Tregeagle  was  not  fated  to  rest.  Satan 
desired  still  to  gain  possession  of  such  a  gigantic  sinner, 
and  we  can  only  refer  what  ensued  to  the  influence  of 
the  wicked  spiritings  of  his  ministers. 

A  dispute  arose  between  two  wealthy  families  respecting 
the  ownership  of  extensive  lands  around  Bodmin.  The 
question  had  been  rendered  more  diflScult  by  the  nefarious 
conduct  of  Tregeagle,  who  had  acted  as  steward  to  one  of 
the  claimants,  and  who  had  destroyed  ancient  deeds,  forged 
others,  and  indeed  made  it  appear  that  he  was  the  real 
proprietor  of  the  domain.  Large  portions  of  the  land 
Tregeagle  had  sold,  and  other  parts  were  leased  upon  long 
terms,  he  having  received  all  the  money  and  appropriated 
it  His  death  led  to  inquiries,  and  then  the  transactions 
were  gradually  brought  to  hght  Involving,  as  this  did, 
large  sums  of  money — and  indeed  it  was  a  question  upon 
which  turned  the  future  well-doing  or  ruin  of  a  family — 
it  was  fought  by  the  lawyers  with  great  pertinacity.  The 
legal  questions  had  been  argued  several  times  before  the 
judges  at  the  assizes.  The  trials  had  been  deferred,  new 
trials  had  been  sought  for  and  granted,  and  every  possible 
plan  known  to  the  lawyers  for  postponing  the  settlement 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  i6i 

of  a  suit  had  been  tried.  A  day  was  at  length  fixed, 
upon  which  a  final  decision  must  be  come  to,  and  a  special 
jury  was  sworn  to  administer  justice  between  the  con- 
tending parties.  Witnesses  innumerable  were  examined  as 
to  the  validity  of  a  certain  deed,  and  the  balance  of 
evidence  was  equally  suspended.  The  judge  was  about 
to  sum  up  the  case  and  refer  the  question  to  the  jury, 
when  the  defendant  in  the  case,  coming  into  court, 
proclaimed  aloud  that  he  had  yet  another  witness  to 
produce.  There  was  a  strange  silence  in  the  judgment- 
hall.  It  was  felt  that  something  chilling  to  the  soul  was 
amongst  them,  and  there  was  a  simultaneous  throb  of 
terror  as  Tregeagle  was  led  into  the  witness-box. 

When  the  awe-struck  assembly  had  recovered,  the  lawyers 
for  the  defendant  commenced  their  examination,  which 
was  long  and  terrible.  The  result,  however,  was  the  dis- 
closure of  an  involved  system  of  fraud,  of  which  the 
honest  defendant  had  been  the  victim,  and  the  jury  un- 
hesitatingly gave  a  verdict  in  his  favour. 

The  trial  over,  every  one  expected  to  see  the  spectre 
witness  removed.  There,  however,  he  stood  powerless  to 
fly,  although  he  evidently  desired  to  do  so.  Spirits  of 
darkness  were  waiting  to  bear  him  away,  but  some  spell 
of  holiness  prevented  them  from  touching  him.  There 
was  a  struggle  with  the  good  and  the  evil  angels  for  this 
sinner's  soul,  and  the  assembled  court  appeared  frozen 
with  horror.  At  length  the  judge  with  dignity  commanded 
the  defendant  to  remove  his  witness. 

"  To  bring  him  from  the  grave  has  been  to  me  so 
dreadful  a  task,  that  I  leave  him  to  your  care,  and  that 
of  the  Prior's  by  whom  he  was  so  beloved."  Having  said 
this,  the  defendant  left  the  court. 

The    churchmen   were    called    in,   and   long   were    the 


1 62  ENGLISH  FOLK 

deliberations  between  them  and  the  lawyers  as  to  the 
best  mode  of  disposing  of  Tregeagle. 

They  could  resign  him  to  the  devil  at  once,  but  by  long 
trial  the  worst  of  crimes  might  be  absolved,  and  as  good 
churchmen  they  could  not  sacrifice  a  human  soul.  The 
only  thing  was  to  give  the  spirit  some  task,  difficult  beyond 
the  power  of  human  nature,  which  might  be  extended  far 
into  eternity.  Time  might  thus  gradually  soften  the 
obdurate  soul,  which  still  retained  all  the  black  dyes  of  the 
sins  done  in  the  flesh,  that  by  infinitely  slow  degrees 
repentance  might  exert  its  softening  power.  The  spell 
therefore  put  upon  Tregeagle  was,  that  as  long  as  he  was 
employed  on  some  endless  assigned  task,  there  should  be 
hope  of  salvation,  and  that  he  should  be  secure  from  the 
assaults  of  the  devil  as  long  as  he  laboured  steadily.  A 
moment's  rest  was  fatal ;  labour  unresting,  and  for  ever,  was 
his  doom. 

One  of  the  lawyers  remembering  that  Dosmery  Pool  was 
bottomless,  and  that  a  thorn  bush  which  had  been  flung 
into  it,  but  a  few  weeks  before,  had  made  its  appearance 
in  Falmouth  harbour,  proposed  that  Tregeagle  might  be 
employed  to  empty  this  profound  lake.  Then  one  of  the 
churchmen,  to  make  the  task  yet  more  enduring,  proposed 
that  it  should  be  performed  by  the  aid  of  a  limpid  shell 
having  a  hole  in  it 

This  was  agreed  to,  and  the  required  incantations  were 
duly  made.  Bound  by  mystical  spells,  Tregeagle  was 
removed  to  the  dark  moors,  and  duly  set  to  work.  Year 
after  year  passed  by,  and  there  day  and  night,  summer  and 
winter,  storm  and  shine,  Tregeagle  was  bending  over  the 
dark  water,  working  hard  with  his  perforated  shell ;  yet  the 
pool  remained  at  the  same  level. 

His  old  enemy  the  devil  kept  a  careful  eye  on  the 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  163 

doomed  one,  resolving,  if  possible,  to  secure  so  choice  an 
example  of  evil.  Often  did  he  raise  tempests  sufficiently 
wild,  as  he  supposed,  to  drive  Tregeagle  from  his  work, 
knowing  that  if  he  failed  for  a  season  to  labour,  he  could 
seize  and  secure  him.  These  were  long  tried  in  vain ;  but 
at  length  an  auspicious  hour  presented  itself. 

Nature  was  at  war  with  herself,  the  elements  had  lost 
their  balance,  and  there  was  a  terrific  struggle  to  recover 
it  Lightnings  flashed,  and  coiled  like  fiery  snakes  around 
the  rocks  of  Roughtor.  Fire-balls  fell  on  the  desert  moors 
and  hissed  in  the  accursed  lake.  Thunders  pealed  through 
the  heavens,  and  echoed  from  hill  to  hill ;  an  earthquake 
shook  the  solid  earth,  and  terror  was  on  all  living.  The 
winds  arose  and  raged  with  a  fury  which  was  irresistible, 
and  hail  beat  so  mercilessly  on  all  things  that  it  spread 
death  around.  Long  did  Tregeagle  stand  the  "pelting  of 
the  pitiless  storm,"  but  at  length  he  yielded  to  its  force  and 
fled.  The  demons  in  crowds  were  at  his  heels.  He 
doubled,  however,  on  his  pursuers  and  returned  to  the 
lake;  but  so  rapid  were  they  that  he  could  not  rest  the 
required  moment  to  dip  his  shell  in  the  now  seething 
waters. 

Three  times  he  fled  round  the  lake,  and  the  evil  ones 
pursued  him.  Then,  feeling  that  there  was  no  safety  for 
him  near  Dosmery  Pool,  he  sprang  swifter  than  the  wind 
across  it,  shrieking  with  agony,  and  thus — since  the  devils 
cannot  cross  water,  and  were  obliged  to  go  round  the  lake 
— he  gained  on  them  and  fled  over  the  moor. 

Away,  away  went  Tregeagle,  faster  and  faster  the  dark 
spirits  pursuing,  and  they  had  nearly  overtaken  him,  when 
he  saw  Roach  Rock  and  its  chapel  before  him.  He  rushed 
up  the  rocks,  with  giant  power  clambered  to  the  eastern 
window,  and  dashed  his  head  through  it,  thus  securing  the 


164  ENGLISH  FOLK 

shelter  of  its  sanctity.  The  defeated  demons  retired,  and 
long  and  loud  were  their  wild  wailings  in  the  air.  The 
inhabitants  of  the  moors  and  of  the  neighbouring  towns 
slept  not  a  wink  that  night. 

Tregeagle  was  safe,  his  head  was  within  the  holy  church, 
though  his  body  was  exposed  on  a  bare  rock  to  the  storm. 
Earnest  were  the  prayers  of  the  blessed  hermit  in  his  cell 
on  the  rock,  to  be  relieved  from  his  nocturnal  and  sinful 
visitor. 

In  vain  were  the  recluse's  prayers.  Day  after  day,  as  he 
knelt  at  the  altar,  the  ghastly  head  of  the  doomed  sinner 
grinned  horribly  down  upon  him.  Every  holy  ejaculation 
fell  upon  Tregeagle's  ear  like  molten  iron.  He  writhed  and 
shrieked  under  the  torture;  but  legions  of  devils  filled 
the  air,  ready  to  seize  him,  if  for  a  moment  he  withdrew  his 
head  from  the  sanctuary.  Sabbath  after  Sabbath  the  little 
chapel  on  the  rock  was  rendered  a  scene  of  sad  confusion 
by  the  interruption  which  Tregeagle  caused.  Men  trembled 
with  fear  at  his  agonising  cries,  and  women  swooned.  At 
length  the  place  was  deserted,  and  even  the  saint  of  the 
rock  was  wasting  to  death  by  the  constant  perturbation  in 
which  he  was  kept  by  the  unholy  spirit,  and  the  demons 
who,  like  carrion  birds,  swarmed  around  the  holy  cairn. 
Things  could  not  go  on  thus.  The  monks  of  Bodmin 
and  the  priests  from  the  neighbouring  churches  gathered 
together,  and  the  result  of  their  long  and  anxious  delibera- 
tions was  that  Tregeagle,  guarded  by  two  saints,  should 
be  taken  to  the  north  coast,  near  Padstow,  and  employed 
in  making  trusses  of  sand,  and  ropes  of  sand  with 
which  to  bind  them.  By  powerful  spell  Tregeagle  was 
removed  from  Roach,  and  fixed  upon  the  sandy  shores 
of  the  Padstow  district  Sinners  are  seldom  permitted 
to  enjoy,  any  peace  of  soul.     As  the  ball  of  sand  grew 


AND  FAIRY  TALES,  165 

into  form,  the  tides  rose,  and  the  breakers  spread  out 
the  sands  again  a  level  sheet ;  again  was  it  packed  together 
and  again  washed  away.  Toil !  toil !  toil !  day  and  night 
unrestingly,  sand  on  sand  grew  with  each  hour,  and  ruth- 
lessly the  ball  was  swept,  by  one  blow  of  a  sea  wave,  along 
the  shore. 

The  cries  of  Tregeagle  were  dreadful;  and  as  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  sand  heap  was  constantly  recurring,  a  constantly 
increasing  despair  gained  the  mastery  over  hope,  and  the 
ravings  of  the  baffled  soul  were  louder  than  the  roarings 
of  the  winter  tempest. 

Baffled  in  making  trusses  of  sand,  Tregeagle  seized 
upon  the  loose  particles  and  began  to  spin  them  into  a 
rope.  Long  and  patiently  did  he  pursue  his  task,  and  hope 
once  more  rose  like  a  star  out  of  the  midnight  darkness 
of  despair.  A  rope  was  forming,  when  a  storm  came  up 
with  all  its  fury  from  the  Atlantic,  and  swept  the  particles 
of  sand  away  over  the  hills. 

The  inhabitants  of  Padstow  had  seldom  any  rest  At 
every  tide  the  bowlings  of  Tregeagle  banished  sleep  from 
each  eye.  But  now  so  fearful  were  the  sounds  of  the 
doomed  soul,  in  the  madness  of  the  struggle  between  hope 
and  despair,  that  the  people  fled  the  town,  and  clustered 
upon  the  neighbouring  plains,  praying,  as  with  one  voice, 
to  be  relieved  from  the  sad  presence  of  this  monster. 

St.  Petroc,  moved  by  the  tears  and  petitions  of  the 
people,  resolved  to  remove  the  spirit ;  and  by  the  intense 
earnestness  of  his  prayers,  after  long  wrestling,  he  subdued 
Tregeagle  to  his  will  Having  chained  him  with  the  bonds 
which  the  saint  had  forged  with  his  own  hands,  every  link 
of  which  had  been  welded  with  a  prayer,  St.  Petroc  led 
the  spirit  away  from  the  north  coast,  and  stealthily  placed 
him  on  the  southern  shores. 

13 


1 66  ENGLISH  FOLK 

In  those  days  Ella's  Town,  now  Helston,  was  a  flourishing 
port.  Ships  sailed  into  the  estuary,  up  to  the  town,  and 
they  brought  all  sorts  of  merchandise,  and  returned  with 
cargoes  of  tin  from  the  mines  of  Breage  and  Wendron. 

The  wily  monk  placed  his  charge  at  Bareppa,  and  there 
condemned  him  to  carry  sacks  of  sand  across  the  estuary  of 
the  Loo,  and  to  empty  them  at  Porthleven,  until  the  beach 
was  clean  down  to  the  rocks.  The  priest  was  a  good 
observer.  He  knew  that  the  sweep  of  the  tide  was  from 
Trewavas  Head  round  the  coast  towards  the  Lizard,  and 
that  the  sand  would  be  carried  back  steadily  and  speedily 
as  fast  as  the  spirit  could  remove  it. 

Long  did  Tregeagle  labour;  and  of  course  in  vaia  His 
struggles  were  giant-like  to  perform  his  task,  but  he  saw  the 
sands  return  as  regularly  as  he  removed  them.  The  suffer- 
ings of  the  poor  fishermen  who  inhabited  the  coast  around 
Porthleven  were  great.  As  the  bowlings  of  Tregeagle  dis- 
turbed the  dwellers  in  Padstow,  so  did  they  now  distress 
those  toil-worn  men. 

"  ^Tien  sorrow  is  highest, 
Relief  is  nighest." 

And  a  mischievous  demon- watcher,  in  pure  wantonness, 
brought  that  relief  to  those  fishers  of  the  sea. 

Tregeagle  was  laden  with  a  sack  of  sand  of  enormous 
size,  and  was  wading  across  the  mouth  of  the  estuary,  when 
one  of  those  wicked  devils,  who  were  kept  ever  near 
Tregeagle,  in  very  idleness  tripped  up  the  heavily-laden 
spirit.  The  sea  was  raging  with  the  irritation  of  a  passing 
storm;  and  as  Tregeagle  fell,  the  sack  was  seized  by  the 
waves,  and  its  contents  poured  out  across  this  arm  of  the 
sea. 

There,    to    this    day,    it    rests   a    bar   of    sand,    fatally 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  167 

destroying  the  harbour  of  Ella's  Town.  The  rage  of  the 
inhabitants  of  this  seaport — now  destroyed — was  great; 
and,  with  all  their  priests,  away  they  went  to  the  Loo 
Bar,  and  assailed  their  destroyer.  Against  human  anger 
Tregeagle  was  proof.  The  shock  of  tongues  fell  harm- 
lessly on  his  ear,  and  the  assault  of  human  weapons  was 
unavailing. 

By  the  aid  of  the  priests,  and  faith-inspired  prayers,  the 
bonds  were  once  more  placed  upon  Tregeagle ;  and  he  was, 
by  the  force  of  bell,  book,  and  candle,  sent  to  the  Land's 
End.  There  he  would  find  no  harbour  to  destroy,  and  but 
few  people  to  terrify.  His  task  was  to  sweep  the  sands 
from  Porthcurnow  Cove  round  the  headland  called  Tol- 
Peden-Penwith,  into  Nanjisal  Cove.  Those  who  know  that 
rugged  headland,  with  its  cubical  masses  of  granite,  piled  in 
Titanic  grandeur  one  upon  another,  will  appreciate  the 
task ;  and  when  to  all  the  difficulties  are  added  the  strong 
sweep  of  the  Atlantic  current — that  portion  of  the  Gulf 
stream  which  washes  our  southern  shores — it  will  be 
evident  that  the  melancholy  spirit  has  indeed  a  task  which 
must  endure  until  the  world  shall  end. 

Even  until  to-day  is  Tregeagle  labouring  at  his  task.  In 
calms  his  wailing  is  heard ;  and  those  sounds  which  some 
call  the  "soughing  of  the  wind,"  are  known  to  be  the  mean- 
ings of  Tregeagle ;  while  the  coming  storms  are  predicated 
by  the  fearful  roarings  of  this  condemned  mortal 


THE  PARSON  AND  CLERIC^ 

Near  Dawlish  stand,  out  in  the  sea,  two  rocks,  of  red 
sandstone  conglomerate,  to  which  the  above  name  is  given. 

Seeing  that  this  forms  a  part  of  Old  Cornwall,  I  do  not 
go  beyond  my  limits  in  telling  the  true  story  of  these 
singular  rocks. 

The  Bishop  of  Exeter  was  sick  unto  death  at  Dawlish. 
An  ambitious  priest,  from  the  east,  frequently  rode  with  his 
clerk  to  make  anxious  inquiries  after  the  condition  of  the 
dying  bishop.  It  is  whispered  that  this  priest  had  great 
hopes  of  occupying  the  bishop's  throne  in  Exeter  Cathedral 

The  clerk  was  usually  the  priest's  guide;  but  somehow 
or  other,  on  a  particularly  stormy  night,  he  lost  the  road, 
and  they  were  wandering  over  Haldon.  Excessively  angry 
was  the  priest,  and  very  provoking  was  the  clerk.  He  led 
his  master  this  way  and  that  way,  but  they  were  yet  upon 
the  elevated  country  of  Haldon. 

At  length  the  priest,  in  a  great  rage,  exclaimed:  "  I  would 
rather  have  the  devil  for  a  guide  than  you."  Presently  the 
clatter  of  horse's  hoofs  were  heard,  and  a  peasant  on  a  moor 
pony  rode  up.  The  priest  told  of  his  condition,  and  the 
peasant  volunteered  to  guide  them.  On  rode  peasant, 
priest,  and  clerk,  and  presently  they  were  at  Dawlish.  The 
night  was  tempestuous,  the  ride  had  quickened  the  appetite 
of  the  priest,  and  he  was  wet  through ;  therefore,  when  his 

^  Robert  Hunt,  Popular  Romances  of  the  West  of  England^  ist 
series,  p.  262. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES.     169 

friend  asked  him  to  supper,  as  they  approached  an  old 
ruined  house,  through  the  windows  of  which  bright  lights 
were  shining,  there  was  no  hesitation  in  accepting  the 
invitation. 

There  were  a  host  of  friends  gathered  together — a 
strange,  wild-looking  lot  of  men.  But  as  the  tables  were 
laden  with  substantial  dishes,  and  black-jacks  were  standing 
thick  around,  the  parson,  and  the  clerk  too,  soon  made 
friends  with  all. 

They  ate  and  drank,  and  became  most  irreligiously  U]> 
roarious.  The  parson  sang  hunting  songs,  and  songs  in 
praise  of  a  certain  old  gentleman,  with  whom  a  priest  should 
not  have  maintained  any  acquaintance.  These  were  very 
highly  appreciated,  and  every  man  joined  loudly  in  the 
choruses.  Night  wore  away,  and  at  last  news  was  brought 
that  the  bishop  was  dead.  This  appeared  to  rouse  up  the 
parson,  who  was  only  too  eager  to  get  the  first  intelligence 
and  go  to  work  to  secure  the  hope  of  his  ambition.  So 
master  and  man  mounted  their  horses,  and  bade  adieu  to 
their  hilarious  friends. 

They  were  yet  at  the  door  of  the  mansion — somehow  or 
other  the  horses  did  not  appear  disposed  to  move.  They 
were  whipped  and  spurred,  but  to  no  purpose. 

"  The  devil's  in  the  horses,"  said  the  priest. 

"  I  b'lieve  he  is,"  said  the  clerk. 

"Devil  or  no  devil,  they  shall  go,"  said  the  parson, 
cutting  his  horse  madly  with  his  heavy  whip. 

There  was  a  roar  of  unearthly  laughter. 

The  priest  looked  round — his  drinking  friends  were  all 
turned  into  demons,  wild  with  glee,  and  the  peasant  guide 
was  an  arch  little  devil,  looking  on  with  a  marvellously 
curious  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  The  noise  of  waters  was 
around  them;    and  now  the  priest  discovered  that  the 


lyo    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

mansion  had  disappeared,  and  that  waves  beat  heavy  upon 
his  horse's  flanks,  and  rushed  over  the  smaller  horse  of  his 
man. 

Repentance  was  too  late. 

In  the  morning  following  this  stormy  night,  two  horses 
were  found  straying  on  the  sands  at  Dawlish ;  and  clinging 
with  the  grasp  of  death  to  two  rocks  were  found  the  parson 
and  the  clerk.  There  stand  the  rocks,  to  which  the  devil 
had  given  the  forms  of  horses — an  enduring  monument  to 
all  generations. 


OUTWITTING  THE  BOGIE.i 

An  elf  once  asserted  a  claim  to  a  field  hitherto  possessed 
by  a  farmer,  and  after  much  disputing  they  came  to  an 
arrangement  by  agreeing  to  divide  its  produce  between 
them.  At  seed-time  the  farmer  asks  the  Bogie  what  part 
of  the  crop  he  will  have,  "tops  or  bottoms."  "Bottoms," 
said  the  spirit :  upon  hearing  which  his  crafty  antagonist 
sows  the  field  with  wheat,  so  that  when  harvest  arrived  the 
corn  falls  to  his  share,  while  the  poor  Bogie  is  obliged  to 
content  himself  with  the  stubble.  Next  year  the  Bogie, 
finding  he  had  made  such  an  unfortunate  selection  in  the 
bottoms,  chose  the  "tops";  whereupon  the  crafty  farmer 
sets  the  field  with  turnips,  thus  again  outwitting  the 
simple  claimant.  Tired  of  this  unprofitable  farming,  the 
Bogie  agrees  to  hazard  his  claims  on  a  mowing  match, 
the  land  in  question  to  be  the  stake  for  which  they  played. 
Before  the  day  of  meeting,  the  canny  earth-tiller  procures  a 
number  of  iron  bars,  which  he  strews  among  the  grass  to  be 
mown  by  his  opponent;  and  when  the  trial  commences, 
the  unsuspecting  goblin  finds  his  progress  retarded  by  his 
scythe  continually  coming  into  contact  with  these  obstacles, 
which  he  takes  to  be  some  hard  species  of  dock.  "  Mortal 
hard  docks  these!"  said  he;  "'Nation  hard  docks!"  His 
blunted  blade  soon  brings  him  to  a  standstill;  and  as,  in 
such  cases,  it  is  not  allowable  for  one  to  sharpen  without 

^  T.   Sternberg,    The  Dialect  and  Folk- Lore  of  Norihamptonshirt-. 
p.  140. 


172     ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

the  other,  he  turns  to  his  antagonist,  now  far  ahead,  and, 
in  a  tone  of  despair,  inquires :  "  When  d'ye  wiffle-waffle 
{whet),  mate?"  "Waffle!"  said  the  farmer,  with  a  well- 
feigned  stare  of  amazement,  "oh,  about  noon,  mebby." 
"Then,"  said  the  despairing  Bogie,  "I've  lost  my  land  !  " 
So  saying,  he  disappeared,  and  the  farmer  reaped  the 
reward  of  his  artifice  by  ever  afterwards  continuing  the 
undisputed  possessor  of  the  soil. 


THE  HUNTED  HARRi 

There  is  a  place  near  our  town  called  Heathfield, — a 
gloomy  and  solitary  waste.  Heathfield  was  then  just  such 
as  evil  spirits  delight  in ;  where  if  people  really  see  nothing, 
it  is  quite  dreary  and  vast  enough  to  fancy  they  see  a 
great  deal,  which  in  these  sort  of  cases  is  much  the  same 
thing.  On  Heathfield  the  devils  dance;  I  do  not  know 
who  is  the  piper,  as  we  have  here  no  Tam  o'  Shanter  to 
tell  us;  but  I  suppose  the  company  are  not  without 
musicians  to  give  them  a  few  hints  in  the  "concord  of 
sweet  sounds." 

Now,  as  the  old  tale  goes,  there  was,  once  upon  a 
time — a  mode  of  dating  which  all  tellers  of  such  tales 
as  mine  should  never  fail  to  employ,  as  it  sets  aside  any 
small  cavils  that  might  arise  from  those  awkward  points 
in  settling  real  facts  that  depend  on  chronology — there 
was,  once  upon  a  time,  an  old  woman,  and  she  made  a 
slight  mistake,  I  do  not  know  how,  and  got  up  at  mid- 
night, thinking  it  to  be  morning.  This  good  woman 
mounted  her  horse,  and  set  off,  panniers,  cloak,  and  all, 
on  her  way  to  market.  Anon  she  heard  a  cry  of  hounds, 
and  soon  perceived  a  hare  rapidly  making  towards  her. 
The  hare,  however,  took  a  turn  and  a  leap,  and  got  on 
the  top  of  the  hedge,  as  if  it  would  say :  "  Come,  catch 
me,"  to  the  old  woman.     She  liked  such  hunting  as  this 

^  Mrs.  Bray,  Th*  Bwtkrs  of  the  Tatnar  and  the  Tcevy,  vol.  iL 
p.  113. 


r  7  4  ENGLISH  FOLK 

very  well,  put  forth  her  hand,  secured  the  game,  popped 
it  into  the  panniers,  covered  it  over,  and  rode  forward. 
She  had  not  gone  far,  when  great  was  her  alarm  on  per- 
ceiving in  the  midst  of  the  dismal  and  solitary  waste  of 
Heathfield,  advancing  at  full  pace,  a  headless  horse,  bearing 
a  black  and  grim  rider,  with  horns  sprouting  from  under 
a  little  jockey  cap ;  and  having  a  cloven  foot  thrust  into 
one  stirrup.  He  was  surrounded  by  a  pack  of  hounds, 
thus  noticed  by  Mary  Colling  : 

"  Of  hounds  on  Heathfield  seen  to  rise, 
With  hornM  heads  and  flaming  eyes." 

They  had,  according  to  tradition,  tails  too,  that  whisked 
about  and  shone  like  fire,  and  the  air  itself  had  a  strong 
sulphureous  scent.  These  were  signs  not  to  be  mistaken ; 
and  the  poor  old  woman  knew  in  a  moment  that  huntsman 
and  hounds  were  taking  a  ride  from  the  regions  below. 
But  it  soon  appeared  that,  however  clever  the  devil  might 
be,  he  was  no  conjurer ;  for  he  very  civilly  asked  the  old 
lady  if  she  could  set  him  right,  and  point  out  which  way 
the  hare  was  flown?  Probably  she  thought  it  no  harm 
to  return  the  father  of  lies  an  answer  in  his  own  coin,  so 
she  boldly  gave  him  a  negative ;  and  he  rode  on,  nothing 
suspecting  the  cheat.  When  he  was  out  of  sight,  she 
soon  perceived  the  hare  in  the  panniers  begin  to  move, 
when  to  her  utter  amazement  arose  a  beautiful  young  lady, 
all  in  white,  who  thus  addressed  her  preserver:  "Good 
dame,  I  admire  your  courage;  and  thank  you  for  the 
kindness  with  which  you  have  saved  me  from  a  state  of 
suffering  that  must  not  be  told  to  human  ears.  Do  not 
start  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  not  an  inhabitant  of 
the  earth.  For  a  great  crime  committed  during  the  time 
I  dwelt  upon  it,  I  was  doomed,  as  a  punishment  in  the 


AND  FAIRY  TALES,  175 

other  world,  to  be  constantly  pursued  either  above  or 
below  ground  by  evil  spirits,  until  I  could  get  behind 
their  tails,  whilst  they  passed  on  in  search  of  me.  This 
difficult  object,  by  your  means,  I  have  now  happily 
effected;  and  as  a  reward  for  your  kindness  I  promise 
that  all  your  hens  shall  lay  two  eggs  instead  of  one,  and 
that  your  cows  shall  yield  the  most  plentiful  store  of  milk 
all  the  year  round ;  that  you  shall  talk  twice  as  much  as 
you  ever  did  before,  and  your  husband  stand  no  chance 
in  any  matter  between  you  to  be  settled  by  the  tongue. 
But  beware  of  the  devil,  and  don't  grumble  about  tithes ; 
for  my  enemy  and  yours  may  do  you  an  ill  turn  when  he 
finds  out  you  were  clever  enough  to  cheat  even  him; 
since,  like  all  great  impostors,  he  does  not  like  to  be 
cheated  himself.  He  can  assume  all  shapes,  excepting 
the  lamb  and  the  dove." 

The  lady  in  white  vanished,  as  all  such  white  ladies 
ought  to  do ;  the  old  market  woman  found  the  best  possible 
luck  that  morning  in  her  traffic ;  and  to  this  day  the  story 
goes  in  our  town,  that  from  the  Saviour  of  the  World 
having  hallowed  the  form  of  the  lamb,  and  the  Holy  Ghost 
that  of  the  dove,  they  can  never  be  assumed  by  the  mortal 
enemy  of  the  human  race  imder  any  circumstances. 


THE  WELL  OF  ST.  LUDGVAN.i 

St.  Ludgvan,  an  Irish  missionary,  had  finished  his  work. 
On  the  hill-top,  looking  over  the  most  beautiful  of  bays, 
the  church  stood  with  all  its  blessings.  Yet  the*  saint, 
knowing  human  nature,  determined  on  associating  with  it 
some  object  of  a  miraculous  character,  which  should  draw 
people  from  all  parts  of  the  world  to  Ludgvan.  The  saint 
prayed  over  the  dry  earth,  which  was  beneath  him,  as  he 
knelt  on  the  church  stile.  His  prayer  was  for  water,  and 
presently  a  most  beautiful  crystal  stream  welled  up  from 
below.  The  holy  man  prayed  on,  and  then,  to  try  the 
virtues  of  the  water,  he  washed  his  eyes.  They  were 
rendered  at  once  more  powerful,  so  penetrating,  indeed, 
as  to  enable  him  to  see  microscopic  objects.  The  saint 
prayed  again,  and  then  he  drank  of  the  water.  He 
discovered  that  his  powers  of  utterance  were  greatly  im- 
proved, his  tongue  formed  words  with  scarcely  any  effort  of 
his  will.  The  saint  now  prayed  that  all  children  baptised 
in  the  waters  of  this  well  might  be  protected  against  the 
hangman  and  his  hempen  cord ;  and  an  angel  from  heaven 
came  down  into  the  water,  and  promised  the  saint  that  his 
prayers  should  be  granted.  Not  long  after  this,  a  good 
farmer  and  his  wife  brought  their  babe  to  the  saint,  that  it 
might  derive  all  the  blessings  belonging  to  this  holy  well. 
The  priest  stood  at  the  baptismal  font,  the  parents,  with 

^  Robert   Hunt,  Popular  Romances  of  thi  West  of  England,  2nd 
series,  p.  39. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.     177 

their  friends  around.  The  saint  proceeded  with  the 
baptismal  ceremonial,  and  at  length  the  time  arrived  when 
he  took  the  tender  babe  into  his  holy  arms.  He  signed  the 
sign  of  the  cross  over  the  child,  and  when  he  sprinkled 
water  on  the  face  of  the  infant  its  face  glowed  with  a  divine 
intelligence.  The  priest  then  proceeded  with  the  prayer ; 
but,  to  the  astonishment  of  all,  whenever  he  used  the  name 
of  Jesus,  the  child,  who  had  received  the  miraculous  power 
of  speech  from  the  water,  pronounced  distinctly  the  name 
of  the  devil,  much  to  the  consternation  of  all  present.  The 
saint  knew  that  an  evil  spirit  had  taken  possession  of  the 
child,  and  he  endeavoured  to  cast  him  out ;  but  the  devil 
proved  stronger  than  the  saint  for  some  time.  St.  Ludgvan 
was  not  to  be  beaten ;  he  knew  that  the  spirit  was  a  restless 
soul,  which  had  been  exorcised  from  Treassow,  and  he 
exerted  all  his  energies  in  prayer.  At  length  the  spirit 
became  obedient,  and  left  the  child.  He  was  now  com- 
manded by  the  saint  to  take  his  flight  to  the  Red  Sea.  He 
rose  before  the  terrified  spectators  into  a  gigantic  size,  he 
then  spat  into  the  well ;  he  laid  hold  of  the  pinnacles  of  the 
tower,  and  shook  the  church  until  they  thought  it  would 
fall.  The  saint  was  alone  unmoved.  He  prayed  on,  until, 
like  a  flash  of  lightning,  the  demon  vanished,  shaking  down 
a  pinnacle  in  his  flight.  The  demon,  by  spitting  in  the 
water,  destroyed  the  spells  of  the  water  upon  the  eyes  ^  and 
the  tongue  too;  but  it  fortunately  retains  its  virtue  of  prevent- 
ing any  child  baptised  in  it  from  being  hanged  with  a  cord  of 
hemp.     Upon  a  cord  of  silk  it  is  stated  to  have  no  power. 

This  well  had  nearly  lost  its  reputation  once — a  Ludgvan 
woman  was  hanged,  under  the  circumstances  told  in  the 
following  narrative : — 

^  It  is  curious  that  the  faim  over  which  some  of  this  water  flows  is 
called  "Collurian  "  to  this  day. 


178  ENGLISH  FOLK 

A  small  farmer,  living  in  one  of  the  most  western  districts 
of  the  county,  died  some  years  back  of  what  was  supposed 
at  that  time  to  be  "  English  cholera."  A  few  weeks  after 
his  decease  his  wife  married  again.  This  circumstance 
excited  some  attention  in  the  neighbourhood.  It  was 
remembered  that  the  woman  had  lived  on  very  bad  terms 
with  her  late  husband,  that  she  had  on  many  occasions 
exhibited  strong  symptoms  of  possessing  a  very  vindictive 
temper,  and  that  during  the  farmer's  lifetime  she  had  openly 
manifested  rather  more  than  a  Platonic  preference  for 
the  man  whom  she  subsequently  married.  Suspicion  was 
generally  excited ;  people  began  to  doubt  whether  the  first 
husband  had  died  fairly.  At  length  the  proper  order  was 
applied  for,  and  his  body  was  disinterred.  On  examination, 
enough  arsenic  to  have  poisoned  three  men  was  found  In  the 
stomach.  The  wife  was  accused  of  murdering  her  husband, 
was  tried,  convicted  on  the  clearest  evidence,  and  hanged. 
Very  shortly  after  she  had  suffered  capital  punishment 
horrible  stories  of  a  ghost  were  widely  circulated.  Certain 
people  declared  that  they  had  seen  a  ghastly  resemblance  of 
the  murderess,  robed  in  her  winding-sheet,  with  the  black 
mark  of  the  rope  round  her  swollen  neck,  standing  on 
stormy  nights  upon  her  husband's  grave,  and  digging  there 
with  a  spade,  in  hideous  imitation  of  the  actions  of  the  men 
who  had  disinterred  the  corpse  for  medical  examination. 
This  was  fearful  enough ;  nobody  dared  go  near  the  place 
after  nightfall.  But  soon  another  circumstance  was  talked 
of  in  connection  with  the  poisoner,  which  affected  the 
tranquillity  of  people's  minds  in  the  village  where  she  had 
lived,  and  where  it  was  believed  she  had  been  born,  more 
seriously  than  even  the  ghost  story  itself  The  well  of  SL 
Ludgvan,  celebrated  among  the  peasantry  of  the  district 
for  its  one  remarkable  property,  that  every  child  baptised 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  179 

in  its  water  (with  which  the  church  was  duly  supph'ed  on 
christening  occasions)  was  secure  from  ever  being  hanged 

No  one  doubted  that  all  the  babies  fortunate  enough  to 
be  born  and  baptised  in  the  parish,  though  they  might  live 
to  the  age  of  Methuselah,  and  might  during  that  period 
commit  all  the  capital  crimes  recorded  in  the  "  Newgate 
Calendar,"  were  still  destined  to  keep  quite  clear  of  the 
summary  jurisdiction  of  Jack  Ketch.  No  one  doubted  this 
until  the  story  of  the  apparition  of  the  murderess  began 
to  be  spread  abroad,  then  awful  misgivings  arose  in  the 
popular  mind. 

A  woman  who  had  been  bom  close  by  the  magical  well, 
and  who  had  therefore  in  all  probability  been  baptised  in  its 
water,  like  her  neighbours  of  the  parish,  had  nevertheless 
been  publicly  and  unquestionably  hanged.  However, 
probability  is  not  always  the  truth.  Every  parishioner 
determined  that  the  baptismal  register  of  the  poisoner 
should  be  sought  for,  and  that  it  should  be  thus  officially 
ascertained  whether  she  had  been  christened  with  the  well 
water  or  not.  After  much  trouble,  the  important  document 
was  discovered — not  where  it  was  first  looked  after,  but  in  a 
neighbouring  parish.  A  mistake  had  been  made  about  the 
woman's  birthplace;  she  had  not  been  baptised  in  St. 
Ludgvan  church,  and  had  therefore  not  been  protected  by 
the  marvellous  virtue  of  the  local  water.  Unutterable  was 
the  joy  and  triumph  of  this  discovery.  The  wonderful 
character  of  the  parish  well  was  wonderfully  vindicated; 
its  celebrity  immediately  spread  wider  than  ever.  The 
peasantry  of  the  neighbouring  districts  began  to  send  for 
the  renowned  water  before  christenings ;  and  many  of  them 
actually  continue,  to  this  day,  to  bring  it  corked  up  in 
bottles  to  their  churches,  and  to  beg  particularly  that  it  may 
be  used  whenever  they  present  their  children  to  be  baptised. 


THE  HEDLEY  KOW.* 

The  Hedley  Kow  was  a  bogie,  mischievous  rather  than 
malignant,  which  haunted  the  village  of  Hedley,  near 
Ebchester.  His  appearance  was  never  very  alarming,  and 
he  used  to  end  his  frolics  with  a  horse-laugh  at  the  expense 
of  his  victims.  He  would  present  himself  to  some  old 
dame  gathering  sticks,  in  the  form  of  a  truss  of  straw,  which 
she  would  be  sure  to  take  up  and  carry  away.  Then  it 
would  become  so  heavy  she  would  have  to  lay  her  burden 
down,  on  which  the  straw  would  become  "quick,"  rise 
upright,  and  shuffle  away  before  her,  till  at  last  it  vanished 
from  her  sight  with  a  laugh  and  shout.  Again,  in  the  shape 
of  a  favourite  cow,  the  sprite  would  lead  the  milkmaid  a 
long  chase  round  the  field,  and  after  kicking  and  routing 
during  milking-time  would  upset  the  pail,  slip  clear  of  the 
tie,  and  vanish  with  a  loud  laugh.  Indeed  the  "Kow" 
must  have  been  a  great  nuisance  in  a  farmhouse,  for  it  is 
said  to  have  constantly  imitated  the  voice  of  the  servant- 
girl's  lovers,  overturned  the  kail-pot,  given  the  cream  to  the 
cats,  unravelled  the  knitting,  or  put  the  spinning-wheel  out 
of  order.  But  the  sprite  made  himself  most  obnoxious  at 
the  birth  of  a  child.  He  would  torment  the  man  who  rode 
for  the  howdie,  frightening  the  horse,  and  often  making  him 
upset  both  messenger  and  howdie,  and  leave  them  in  the 
road.     Then  he  would  mock  the  gudewife,  and,  when  her 

^  William    Henderson,    Notes   on  the   Folk-Lore  of  the  Northern 
Countiei  of  England  and  th^  Borders,  p.  270. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.     i8i 

angry  husband  rushed  out  with  a  stick  to  drive  away  the 
"  Kow "  from  the  door  or  window,  the  stick  would  be 
snatched  from  him,  and  lustily  applied  to  his  own 
shoulders. 

Two  adventures  with  the  Hedley  Kow  are  thus  related. 
A  farmer  named  Forster,  who  lived  near  Hedley,  went  out 
into  the  field  one  morning,  and  caught,  as  he  believed,  his 
own  grey  horse.  After  putting  the  harness  on,  and  yoking 
him  to  the  cart,  Forster  was  about  to  drive  off,  when  the 
creature  slipped  away  from  the  limmers  "like  a  knotless 
thread,"  and  set  up  a  great  nicker  as  he  flung  up  his  heels 
and  scoured  away,  revealing  himself  clearly  as  the  Hedley 
Kow.  Again,  two  young  men  of  Newlands,  near  Ebchester, 
went  out  one  evening  to  meet  their  sweethearts ;  and  arriv- 
ing at  the  trysting-place,  saw  them,  as  it  appeared,  a  short 
distance  before  them.  The  girls  walked  on  for  two  or  three 
miles;  the  lads  followed,  quite  unable  to  overtake  them, 
till  at  last  they  found  themselves  up  to  the  knees  in  a  bog, 
and  their  beguilers  vanished,  with  a  loud  Ha !  ha !  The 
young  men  got  clear  of  the  mire  and  ran  homewards,  as 
fast  as  they  could,  the  bogie  at  their  heels  hooting  and 
mocking  them.  In  crossing  the  Derwent  they  fell  into  the 
water,  mistook  each  other  for  the  sprite,  and  finally  reached 
home  separately,  each  telling  a  fearful  tale  of  having  been 
chased  by  the  Hedley  Kow,  and  nearly  drowned  in  the 
Derwent 

Surely  this  Northern  sprite  is  closely  akin  to  Robin  Good- 
fellow,  whom  Ben  Jonson  introduced  to  us  as  speaking 
thus : 

"  Sometimes  I  meete  them  like  a  man, 

Sometimes  an  ox,  sometimes  a  hound, 

And  to  a  horse  I  turn  me  can, 

To  trip  and  trot  about  them  round. 

14 


i82    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

But  if  to  ride 

My  backe  they  stride, 
More  swift  than  wind  away  I  go  : 

O'er  the  hedge  and  lands, 

Through  pools  and  ponds, 
I  whirr>'  laughing,  Ho  I  ho  !  ho  ! " 


WITCHCRAFT. 


THE   LORD   OF  PENGERSWICK.1 


THE  LORD  OF  PENGERSWICK  AN  ENCHANTER. 

The  Lord  of  Pengerswick  came  from  some  Eastern  clime, 
bringing  with  him  a  foreign  lady  of  great  beauty.  She  was 
considered  by  all  an  "  outlandish  "  woman ;  and  by  many 
declared  to  be  a  "  Saracen."  No  one,  beyond  the  selected 
servants,  was  ever  allowed  within  the  walls  of  Pengerswick 
Castle ;  and  they,  it  was  said,  were  bound  by  magic  spells. 
No  one  dared  tell  of  anything  transacted  within  the  walls ; 
consequently  all  was  conjecture  amongst  the  neighbouring 
peasantry,  miners,  and  fishermen.  Certain  it  was,  they  said, 
that  Pengerswick  would  shut  himself  up  for  days  together 
in  his  chamber,  burning  strange  things,  which  sent  their 
strong  odours, — not  only  to  every  part  of  the  castle, — but 
for  miles  around  the  country.  Often  at  night,  and  especially 
in  stormy  weather,  Pengerswick  was  heard  for  hours  together 
calling  up  the  spirits,  by  reading  from  his  books  in  some 
unknown  tongue.  On  those  occasions  his  voice  would  roll 
through  the  halls  louder  than  the  surging  waves  which  beat 
against  the  neighbouring  rocks,  the  spirits  replying  like  the 
roar  of  thunder.     Then  would  all  the  servants  rush  in  fright 

^  Robert    Hunt,  Popular  Romances  of  the   West  of  England,  2nd 
series,  p.  86. 


i84  ENGLISH  FOLK 

from  the  building,  and  remain  crowded  together,  even  in 
the  most  tempestuous  night,  in  one  of  the  open  courts. 
Fearful  indeed  would  be  the  strife  between  the  man  and  the 
demons ;  and  it  sometimes  happened  that  the  spirits  were 
too  powerful  for  the  enchanter.  He  was,  however,  con- 
stantly and  carefully  watched  by  his  wife;  and  whenever 
the  strife  became  too  serious,  her  harp  was  heard  making 
the  softest,  the  sweetest  music.  At  this  the  spirits  fled; 
and  they  were  heard  passing  through  the  air  towards  the 
Land's  End,  moaning  like  the  soughing  of  a  departing 
storm.  The  lights  would  then  be  extinguished  in  the 
enchanter's  tower,  and  all  would  be  peace.  The  servants 
would  return  to  their  apartments  with  a  feeling  of  perfect 
confidence.  They  feared  their  master,  but  their  mistress 
inspired  them  with  love.  Lady  Pengerswick  was  never  seen 
beyond  the  grounds  surrounding  the  castle.  She  sat  all  day 
in  lonely  state  and  pride  in  her  tower,  the  lattice-window  of 
her  apartment  being  high  on  the  seaward  side.  Her  voice, 
accompanying  the  music  of  her  harp,  was  rarely  heard,  but 
when  she  warbled  the  soft  love  strains  of  her  Eastern  land. 
Often  at  early  dawn  the  very  fishes  of  the  neighbouring  bay 
would  raise  their  heads  above  the  surface  of  the  waters, 
enchanted  by  the  music  and  the  voice ;  and  it  is  said  that 
the  mermaids  from  the  Lizard,  and  many  of  the  strange 
spirits  of  the  waters,  would  come  near  to  Pengerswick  cove, 
drawn  by  the  same  influence.  On  moonlight  nights  the  air 
has  often  seemed  to  be  full  of  sound,  and  yet  the  lady's  voice 
was  seldom  louder  than  that  of  a  warbling  bird.  On  these 
occasions  men  have  seen  thousands  of  spirits  gliding  up  and 
down  the  moonbeams,  and  floating  idly  on  the  silvered 
waves,  listening  to,  and  sometimes  softly  echoing,  the  words 
which  Lady  Pengerswick  sang.  Long  did  this  strange 
pair  inhabit  this  lonely  castle ;  and  although  the  Lord  of 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  185 

Pcngerswick  frequently  rode  abroad  on  a  most  magnificent 
horse — which  had  the  reputation  of  being  of  Satanic  origin, 
it  was  at  once  so  docile  to  its  master  and  so  wild  to  any 
other  person — yet  he  made  no  acquaintance  with  any  of 
the  neighbouring  gentry.  He  was  feared  by  all,  and  yet 
they  respected  him  for  many  of  the  good  deeds  performed 
by  him.  He  completely  enthralled  the  Giants  of  the 
Mount;  and  before  he  disappeared  from  Cornwall,  they 
died,  owing,  it  was  said,  to  grief  and  want  of  food. 

Where  the  Lord  of  Pengerswick  came  from,  no  one  knew; 
he,  with  his  lady,  with  two  attendants,  who  never  spoke  in 
any  but  an  Eastern  tongue,  which  was  understood  by  none 
around  them,  made  their  appearance  one  winter's  day, 
mounted  on  beautiful  horses,  evidently  from  Arabia  or  some 
distant  land. 

They  soon — having  gold  in  abundance — got  possession 
of  a  cottage ;  and  in  a  marvellously  short  time  the  castle, 
which  yet  bears  his  name,  was  rebuilt  by  this  lord.  Many 
affirm  that  the  lord  by  the  force  of  his  enchantments,  and 
the  lady  by  the  spell  of  her  voice,  compelled  the  spirits  of 
the  earth  and  air  to  work  for  them ;  and  that  three  nights 
were  sufficient  to  rear  an  enormous  pile,  of  which  but  one 
tower  now  remains. 

Their  coming  was  sudden  and  mysterious ;  their  going 
was  still  more  so.  Years  had  rolled  on,  and  the  people 
around  were  familiarised  with  those  strange  neighbours, 
from  whom  also  they  derived  large  profits,  since  they  paid 
whatsoever  price  was  demanded  for  any  article  which  they 
required.  One  day  a  stranger  was  seen  in  Market-Jew, 
whose  face  was  bronzed  by  long  exposure  to  an  Eastern  sun. 
No  one  knew  him ;  and  he  eluded  the  anxious  inquiries 
of  the  numerous  gossips,  who  were  especially  anxious 
to  learn  something  of  this  man,  who,  it  was  surmised  by 


i86  ENGLISH  FOLK 

every  one,  must  have  some  connection  with  Pengerswick  or 
his  lady ;  yet  no  one  could  assign  any  reason  for  such  a 
supposition.  Week  after  week  passed  away,  and  the 
stranger  remained  in  the  town,  giving  no  sign.  Wonder 
was  on  every  old  woman's  lips,  and  expressed  in  every  old 
man's  eyes ;  but  they  had  to  wonder  on.  One  thing,  it  was 
said,  had  been  noticed;  and  this  seemed  to  confirm  the 
suspicions  of  the  people.  The  stranger  wandered  out  on 
dark  nights — spent  them,  it  was  thought,  on  the  sea-shore ; 
and  some  fishermen  said  they  had  seen  him  seated  on  the 
rock  at  the  entrance  of  the  valley  of  Pengerswick.  It  was 
thought  that  the  lord  kept  more  at  home  than  usual,  and  of 
late  no  one  had  heard  his  incantation  songs  and  sounds; 
neither  had  they  heard  the  harp  of  the  lady.  A  very 
tempestuous  night,  singular  for  its  gloom — when  even  the 
ordinary  light,  which,  on  the  darkest  night,  is  evident  to  the 
traveller  in  the  open  country,  did  not  exist — appears  to  have 
brought  things  to  their  climax.  There  was  a  sudden  alarm 
in  Market- Jew,  a  red  glare  in  the  eastern  sky,  and  presently 
a  burst  of  flames  above  the  hill,  and  St.  Michael's  Mount 
was  illuminated  in  a  remarkable  manner.  Pengerswick 
Castle  was  on  fire  ;  the  servants  fled  in  terror ;  but  neither 
the  lord  nor  his  lady  could  be  found.  From  that  day  to  the 
present  they  were  lost  to  alL 

The  interior  of  the  castle  was  entirely  destroyed ;  not  a 
vestige  of  furniture,  books,  or  anything  belonging  to  the 
"  Enchanter  "  could  be  found.  He  and  everything  belong- 
ing to  him  had  vanished;  and,  strange  to  tell,  from  that 
night  the  bronzed  stranger  was  never  again  seea  The 
inhabitants  of  Market-Jew  naturally  crowded  to  the  fire; 
and  when  all  was  over  they  returned  to  their  homes, 
speculating  on  the  strange  occurrences  of  the  night.  Two 
of  the  oldest  people  always  declared  that,  when  the  flames 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  187 

were  at  the  highest,  they  saw  two  men  and  a  lady  floating 
in  the  midst  of  the  fire,  and  that  they  ascended  from  amidst 
the  falling  walls,  passed  through  the  air  like  lightning,  and 
disappeared. 

11. 

THE  WITCH  OF  FRADDAM  AND  THE  ENCHANTER  OF 
PENGERSWICK. 

Again  and  again  had  the  Lord  of  Pengerswick  reversed  the 
spells  of  the  Witch  of  Fraddam,  who  was  reported  to  be 
the  most  powerful  weird  woman  in  the  west  country.  She 
had  been  thwarted  so  many  times  by  this  *'  white  witch  " 
that  she  resolved  to  destroy  him  by  some  magic  more 
potent  than  anything  yet  heard  of.  It  is  said  that  she 
betook  herself  to  Kynance  Cove,  and  that  there  she  raised 
the  devil  by  her  incantations,  and  that  she  pledged  her  soul 
to  him  in  return  for  the  aid  he  promised.  The  enchanter's 
famous  mare  was  to  be  seduced  to  drink  from  a  tub  of 
poisoned  water  placed  by  the  roadside,  the  effect  of  which 
was  to  render  him  in  the  highest  degree  restive,  and  cause 
him  to  fling  his  rider.  The  wounded  Lord  of  Pengerswick 
was,  in  his  agony,  to  be  drenched  by  the  old  witch  with 
some  hell-broth,  brewed  in  the  blackest  night,  under  the 
most  evil  aspects  of  the  stars ;  by  this  he  would  be  in  her 
power  for  ever,  and  she  might  torment  him  as  she  pleased. 
The  devil  felt  certain  of  securing  the  soul  of  the  Witch  of 
Fraddam,  but  he  was  less  certain  of  securing  that  of  the 
enchanter.  They  say  indeed  that  the  sorcery  which 
Pengerswick  learned  in  the  East  was  so  potent  that  the 
devil  feared  him.  However,  as  the  proverb  is,  he  held  with 
the  hounds  and  ran  with  the  hare.  The  witch  collected 
with  the  utmost  care  all  the  deadly  things  she  could  obtain, 
with  which   to  brew  her  famous   drink.     In  the  darkest 


1 88  ENGLISH  FOLK 

night,  in  the  midst  of  the  wildest  storms,  amidst  the  flash- 
ings of  lightnings  and  the  bellowings  of  the  thunder,  the 
witch  was  seen  riding  on  her  black  ram-cat  over  the  moors 
and  mountains  in  search  of  her  poisons.  At  length  all  was 
complete — the  horse  drink  was  boiled,  the  hell-broth  was 
brewed.  It  was  in  March,  about  the  time  of  the  equinox; 
the  night  was  dark,  and  the  King  of  Storms  was  abroad. 
The  witch  planted  her  tub  of  drink  in  a  dark  lane,  through 
which  she  knew  the  Lord  of  Pengerswick  must  pass,  and 
near  to  it  she  sat,  croning  over  her  crock  of  broth.  The 
witch-woman  had  not  long  to  waitj  amidst  the  hmrying 
winds  was  heard  the  heavy  tramp  of  the  enchanter's  mare, 
and  soon  she  perceived  the  outline  of  man  and  horse 
defined  sharply  against  the  line  of  lurid  light  which 
stretched  along  the  western  horizon.  On  they  came ;  the 
witch  was  scarcely  able  to  contain  herself — her  joys  and  her 
fears,  struggling  one  with  the  other,  almost  overpowered 
her.  On  came  the  horse  and  his  rider:  they  neared  the 
tub  of  drink ;  the  mare  snorted  loudly,  and  her  eyes  flashed 
fire  as  she  looked  at  the  black  tub  by  the  roadside. 
Pengerswick  bent  him  over  the  horse's  neck  and  whispered 
into  her  ear ;  she  turns  round,  and,  flinging  out  her  heels, 
with  one  kick  she  scattered  all  to  the  wild  winds.  The  tub 
flew  before  the  blow ;  it  rushed  against  the  crock,  which  it 
overturned,  and  striking  against  the  legs  of  the  old  Witch 
of  Fraddam,  she  fell  along  with  the  tub,  which  assumed 
the  shape  of  a  coffin.  Her  terror  was  extreme:  she  who 
thought  to  have  unhorsed  the  conjurer,  found  herself  in  a 
carriage  for  which  she  did  not  bargain.  The  enchanter 
raised  his  voice  and  gave  utterance  to  some  wild  words  in 
an  unknown  tongue,  at  which  even  his  terrible  mare 
trembled.  A  whirlwind  arose,  and  the  devil  was  in  the 
midst  of  it     He  took  the  coffin  in  which  lay  the  terrified 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  189 

witch  high  into  the  air,  and  the  crock  followed  them.  The 
derisive  laughter  of  Pengerswick,  and  the  savage  neighing 
of  the  horse,  were  heard  above  the  roar  of  the  winds.  At 
length,  with  a  satisfied  tone,  he  exclaimed  :  "  She  is  settled 
till  the  day  of  doom,"  gave  the  mare  the  spurs,  and  rode 
rapidly  home. 

The  Witch  of  Fraddam  still  floats  up  and  down,  over  the 
seas,  around  the  coast,  in  her  coffin,  followed  by  the  crock, 
which  seems  like  a  punt  in  attendance  on  a  jolly-boat.  She 
still  works  mischief,  stirring  up  the  sea  with  her  ladle  and 
broom  till  the  waves  swell  into  mountains,  which  heave  off 
from  their  crests  so  much  mist  and  foam  that  these  wild 
wanderers  of  the  winds  can  scarcely  be  seen  through  the 
mist.     Woe  to  the  mariner  who  sees  the  witch  ! 

The  Lord  of  Pengerswick  alone  had  power  over  her.  He 
had  but  to  stand  on  his  tower,  and  blow  three  blasts  on  his 
trumpet,  to  summon  her  to  the  shore,  and  compel  her  to 
peace. 


THE  WITCH  AND  THE  TOAD.i 

An  old  woman  called  Alsey — usually  Aunt  Alsey — occupied 
a  small  cottage  in  Anthony,  one  of  a  row  which  belonged 
to  a  tradesman  living  in  Dock — as  Devonport  was  then 
designated,  to  distinguish  it  from  Plymouth.  The  old 
woman  possessed  a  very  violent  temper,  and  this,  more 
than  anything  else,  fixed  upon  her  the  character  of  being  a 
witch.  Her  landlord  had  frequently  sought  his  rent,  and  as 
frequently  he  received  nothing  but  abuse.  He  had,  on  the 
special  occasion  to  which  our  narrative  refers,  crossed  the 
Tamar  and  walked  to  Anthony,  with  the  firm  resolve  of 
securing  his  rent,  now  long  in  arrear,  and  of  turning  the 
old  termagant  out  of  the  cottage.  A  violent  scene 
ensued,  and  the  vicious  old  woman,  more  than  a  match  for 
a  really  kind-hearted  and  quiet  man,  remained  the  mistress 
of  the  situation.  She  seated  herself  in  the  door  of  her 
cottage  and  cursed  her  landlord's  wife,  "  the  child  she  was 
carrying,"  and  all  belonging  to  him,  with  so  devilish  a  spite 

that  Mr. owned  he  was  fairly  driven  away  in  terror. 

On  returning  home,  he,  of  course,  told  his  wife  all  the 
circumstances ;  and  while  they  were  discoursing  on  the 
subject — the  whole  story  being  attentively  listened  to  by 
their  daughter,  then  a  young  girl,  who  is  my  informant — a 
woman  came  into  the  shop  requiring  some  articles  which 
they  sold. 

^  Robert  Hunt,  Popular  Romances  of  the  West  of  England^  2nd 
series,  p.  105. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES,     igi 

"  Sit  still,  father,"  said  Mrs. to  her  husband ;  "  you 

must  be  tired.     I  will  see  to  the  shop." 

So  she  went  from  the  parlour  into  the  shop,  and,  hearing 
the  wants  of  her  customer,  proceeded  to  supply  them ; 
gossiping  gaily,  as  was  her  wont,  to  interest  the  buyer. 

Mrs.  was  weighing  one  of  the  articles   required, 

when  something  falling  heavily  from  the  ceiling  of  the  shop, 
struck  the  beam  out  of  her  hand,  and  both — the  falling 
body  and  the  scales — came  together  with  much  noise  on  to 
the  counter.  At  the  same  instant  both  women  screamed ; 
— the  shopkeeper  calling  also:  "  Father  !  father ! " — meaning 
her  husband  thereby — with  great  energy. 

Mr. and  his  daughter  were  in  the  shop  instantly, 

and  there,  on  the  counter,  they  saw  an  enormous  and  most 
ugly  toad  sprawling  amidst  the  chains  of  the  scales.  The 
first  action  of  the  man  was  to  run  back  to  the  parlour,  seize 
the  tongs,  and  return  to  the  shop.  He  grasped  the  swollen 
toad  with  the  tongs,  the  vicious  creature  spitting  all  the 
time,  and,  without  a  word,  he  went  back  and  flung  it 
behind  the  block  of  wood  which  was  burning  in  the  grate. 
The  object  of  terror  being  removed,  the  wife,  who  was 
shortly  to  become  the  mother  of  another  child,  though 
usually  a  woman  who  had  great  command  over  her  feelings, 
fainted. 

This  circumstance  demanding  all  their  attention,  the  toad 
was  forgotten.     The  shock  was  a  severe  one ;  and  although 

Mrs. was  restored  in  a  little  time  to  her  senses,  she 

again  and  again  became  faint.     Those  fits  continuing,  her 

medical  attendant,  Dr. ,  was  sent  for,  and  on  his  arrival 

he  ordered  that  his  patient  should  be  immediately  placed  in 
bed,  and  the  husband  was  informed  that  he  must  be 
prepared  for  a  premature  birth. 

The  anxiety  occasioned  by  these  circumstances,  and  the 


xga  ENGLISH  FOLK 

desire  to  afford  every  relief  to  his  wife,  so  fully  occupied 

Mr. ,  that  for  an  hour  or  two  he  entirely  forgot  the 

cause  of  all  this  mischief;  or,  perhaps  satisfying  himself 
that  the  toad  was  burnt  to  ashes,  he  had  no  curiosity  to 
look  after  it.  He  was,  however,  suddenly  summoned  from 
the  bedroom,  in  which  he  was  with  his  wife,  by  his  daughter 
calling  to  him,  in  a  voice  of  terror  : 

"  O  father,  the  toad,  the  toad  ! " 

Mr. rushed  downstairs,  and  he  then  discovered  that 

the  toad,  though  severely  burnt,  had  escaped  destruction. 

It  must  have  crawled  up  over  the  log  of  wood,  and  from 
it  have  fallen  down  amongst  the  ashes.  There  it  was  now 
making  useless  struggles  to  escape,  by  climbing  over  the 
fender. 

The  tongs  were  again  put  in  requisition,  with  the  inten- 
tion this  time  of  carrying  the  reptile  out  of  the  house. 
Before,  however,  he  had  time  to  do  so,  a  man  from 
Anthony  came  hastily  into  the  shop  with  the  information 
that  Aunt  Alsey  had  fallen  into  the  fire,  as  the  people  sup- 
posed, in  a  fit,  and  that  she  was  nearly  burnt  to  death.  This 
man  had  been  sent  off  with  two  commissions — one  to  fetch 

the  doctor,  and  the  other  to  bring  Mr. with  him,  as 

much  of  the  cottage  had  been  injured  by  fire,  communi- 
cated to  it  by  the  old  woman's  dress. 

In  as  short  a  time  as  possible  the  parish  surgeon  and  Mr. 

were  at  Anthony,  and  too  truly  they  found  the  old 

woman  most  severely  burnt — so  seriously  indeed  there  was 
no  chance  that  one  so  aged  could  rally  from  the  shock 
which  her  system  must  have  received.  However,  a  litter 
was  carefully  prepared,  the  old  woman  was  placed  in  it,  and 
carried  to  the  workhouse.  Every  attention  was  given  to  her 
situation,  but  she  never  recovered  perfect  consciousness 
and  during  the  night  she  died. 


AND  FAIR  Y  TALES.  193 

The  toad,  which  we  left  inside  the  fender  in  front  of  a 
blazing  fire,  was  removed  from  a  position  so  trying  to  any 
cold-blooded  animal,  by  the  servant,  and  thrown,  with  a 
"  hugh  "  and  a  shudder,  upon  one  of  the  flower-beds  in  the 
small  garden  behind  the  house. 

There  it  lay  the  next  morning  dead,  and  when  examined 

by  Mr. ,  it  was  found  that  all  the  injuries  sustained  by 

the  toad  corresponded  with  those  received  by  the  poor  old 
wretch,  who  had  no  doubt  fallen  a  victim  to  passion. 

As  we  have  only  to  deal  with  the  mysterious  relation 
which  existed  between  the  witch  and  the  toad,  it  is  not 
necessary  that  we  should  attend  further  to  the  innocent 
victim  of  an  old  woman's  vengeance,  than  to  say  that 
eventually  a  babe  was  born — that  that  babe  grew  to  be  a 
handsome  man,  was  an  officer  in  the  navy,  and  having 
married,  went  to  sea,  and  perished,  leaving  a  widow  with  an 
unborn  child  to  lament  his  loss.  Whether  this  was  a  result 
of  the  witch's  curse,  those  who  are  more  deeply  skilled  in 
witchcraft  than  I  am  may  perhapf?  telL 


WITCH  AND  HARE.1 

An  old  witch,  in  days  of  yore,  lived  in  this  neighbourhood  j 
and  whenever  she  wanted  money  she  would  assume  the 
shape  of  a  hare,  and  would  send  out  her  grandson  to  tell  a 
certain  huntsman  who  lived  hard  by  that  he  had  seen  a 
hare  sitting  at  such  a  particular  spot,  for  which  he  always 
received  the  reward  of  sixpence.  After  this  deception  had 
many  times  been  practised,  the  dogs  turned  out,  the  hare 
pursued,  often  seen  but  never  caught,  a  sportsman  of  the 
party  began  to  suspect,  in  the  language  of  the  tradition, 
"  that  the  devil  was  in  the  dance,"  and  there  would  be  no 
end  to  it.  The  matter  was  discussed,  a  justice  consulted, 
and  a  clergyman  to  boot ;  and  it  was  thought  that,  however 
clever  the  devil  might  be,  law  and  church  combined  would 
be  more  than  a  match  for  him.  It  was  therefore  agreed 
that,  as  the  boy  was  singularly  regular  in  the  hour  at  which 
he  came  to  announce  the  sight  of  the  hare,  all  should  be  in 
readiness  for  a  start  the  instant  such  information  was  given : 
and  a  neighbour  of  the  witch,  nothing  friendly  to  her, 
promised  to  let  the  parties  know  directly  the  old  woman 
and  her  grandson  left  the  cottage  and  went  off  together ; 
the  one  to  be  hunted,  and  the  other  to  set  on  the  hunt.  The 
news  cartie,  the  hounds  were  unkennelled,  and  huntsmen 
and  sportsmen  set  off  with  surprising  speed.  The  witch, 
now  a  hare,  and  her  little  colleague  in  iniquity,  did  not 
expect  so  very  speedy  a  turn  out ;  so  that  the  game  was 

^  Mrs.  Bray,  The  Borders  of  the  Tamar  and  the  Tavy,  vol.  ii.  p.  II2. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES.     195 

pursued  at  a  desperate  rate,  and  the  boy,  forgetting  himself 
in  a  moment  of  alarm,  was  heard  to  exclaim:  "  Run,  Granny, 
run  ;  run  for  your  life  !  "  At  last  the  pursuers  lost  the  hare, 
and  she  once  more  got  safe  into  the  cottage  by  a  little  hole 
in  the  door ;  not  large  enough  to  admit  a  hound  in  chase. 
The  huntsman  and  all  the  squires  with  their  train  lent  a 
hand  to  break  open  the  door,  yet  could  not  do  it  till  the 
parson  and  the  justice  came  up ;  but  as  law  and  church 
were  certainly  designed  to  break  through  iniquity,  even  so 
did  they  now  succeed  in  bursting  the  magic  bonds  that 
opposed  them.  Upstairs  they  all  went.  There  they  found 
the  old  hag  bleeding,  and  covered  with  wounds,  and  still 
out  of  breath.  She  denied  she  was  a  hare,  and  railed  at  the 
whole  party.  "  Call  up  the  hounds,"  said  the  huntsman, 
"and  let  us  see  what  they  take  her  to  be;  maybe  we  may 
yet  have  another  hunt." 

On  hearing  this  the  old  woman  cried  quarter.  The  boy 
dropped  on  his  knees,  and  begged  hard  for  mercy,  which 
was  granted  on  condition  of  its  being  received  together  with 
a  good  whipping ;  and  the  huntsman,  having  long  practised 
amongst  the  hounds,  now  tried  his  hand  on  other  game. 
Thus  the  old  woman  escaped  a  worse  fate  for  the  time 
present;  but  on  being  afterwards  put  on  her  trial  for 
bewitching  a  young  woman  and  making  her  spit  pins,  the 
tale  just  told  was  given  as  evidence  against  her,  before  a 
particularly  learned  judge,  and  a  remarkably  sagacious  jury, 
and  the  old  woman  finished  her  days,  like  a  martyr,  at  the 
stake. 


THE  HAND  OF  GLORY.i 

One  evening,  between  the  years  1790  and  i8co,  a 
traveller,  dressed  in  woman's  clothes,  arrived  at  the  Old 
Spital  Inn,  the  place  where  the  mail  coach  changed  horses, 
in  High  Spital,  on  Bowes  Moor.  The  traveller  begged  to 
stay  all  night,  but  had  to  go  away  so  early  in  the  morning 
that  if  a  mouthful  of  food  were  set  ready  for  breakfast  there 
was  no  need  the  family  should  be  disturbed  by  her  depar- 
ture. The  people  of  the  house,  however,  arranged  that  a 
servant  maid  should  sit  up  till  the  stranger  was  out  of  the 
premises,  and  then  went  to  bed  themselves.  The  girl  lay 
down  for  a  nap  on  the  longsettle  by  the  fire,  but  before 
she  shut  her  eyes  she  took  a  good  look  at  the  traveller,  who 
was  sitting  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hearth,  and  espied  a 
pair  of  man's  trousers  peeping  out  from  under  the  gown. 
All  inclination  for  sleep  was  now  gone ;  however,  with  great 
self-command,  she  feigned  it,  closed  her  eyes,  and  even 
began  to  snore.  On  this  the  traveller  got  up,  pulled  out  of 
his  pocket  a  dead  man's  hand,  fitted  a  candle  to  it,  lighted 
the  candle,  and  passed  hand  and  candle  several  times 
before  the  servant  girl's  face,  saying  as  he  did  so :  "  Let 
those  who  are  asleep  be  asleep,  and  let  those  who  are 
awake  be  awake."  This  done,  he  placed  the  light  on  the 
table,  opened  the  outer  door,  went  down  two  or  three  of 
the  steps  which  led  from  the  house  to  the  road,  and  began 

*  William    Henderson,    Notes  on    the   Folk- Lore  of  the  Northern 
Counties  of  England  and  the  Borders,  p.  241. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.     197 

to  whistle  for  his  companions.  The  girl  (who  had  hitherto 
had  presence  of  mind  enough  to  remain  perfectly  quiet) 
now  jumped  up,  rushed  behind  the  ruffian,  and  pushed  him 
down  the  steps.  She  then  shut  the  door,  locked  it,  and  ran 
upstairs  to  try  and  wake  the  family,  but  without  success : 
calling,  shouting,  and  shaking  were  alike  in  vain.  The 
poor  girl  was  in  despair,  for  she  heard  the  traveller  and  his 
comrades  outside  the  house.  So  she  ran  down  again, 
seized  a  bowl  of  blue  (/.<r.,  skimmed  milk),  and  threw  it  over 
the  hand  and  candle ;  after  which  she  went  upstairs  again, 
and  awoke  the  sleepers  without  any  difficulty.  The  land- 
lord's son  went  to  the  window,  and  asked  the  men  outside 
what  they  wanted.  They  answered  that  if  the  dead  man's 
hand  were  but  given  them,  they  would  go  away  quietly,  and 
do  no  harm  to  any  one.  This  he  refused,  and  fired  among 
them,  and  the  shot  must  have  taken  effect,  for  in  the 
morning  stains  of  blood  were  traced  to  a  considerable 
distance. 

These  circumstances  were  related  to  my  informant,  Mr. 
Charles  Wastell,  in  the  spring  of  1861,  by  an  old  woman 
named  Bella  Parkin,  who  resided  close  to  High  Spital,  and 
was  actually  the  daughter  of  the  courageous  servant  girl. 

It  is  interesting  to  compare  them  with  the  following 
narrations,  communicated  to  me  by  the  Rev.  S.  Baring 
Gould: — "Two  magicians  having  come  to  lodge  in  a 
public-house  with  a  view  to  robbing  it,  asked  permission  to 
pass  the  night  by  the  fire,  and  obtained  it  When  the 
house  was  quiet,  the  servant  girl,  suspecting  mischief,  crept 
downstairs  and  looked  through  the  key-hole.  She  saw  the 
men  open  a  sack,  and  take  out  a  dry,  withered  hand.  They 
anointed  the  fingers  with  some  unguent,  and  lighted  them. 
Each  finger  flamed,  but  the  thumb  they  could  not  light; 
that  was  because  one  of  the  household  was  not  asleep. 

15 


198  ENGLISH  FOLK 

The  girl  hastened  to  her  master,  but  found  it  impossible  to 
arouse  him.  She  tried  every  other  sleeper,  but  could  not 
break  the  charmed  sleep.  At  last,  stealing  down  into  the 
kitchen,  while  the  thieves  were  busy  over  her  master's 
strong  box,  she  secured  the  hand,  blew  out  the  flames,  and 
at  once  the  whole  household  was  aroused.  "^ 

But  the  next  story  bears  a  closer  resemblance  to  the 
Stainmore  narrative.  One  dark  night,  when  all  was  shut 
up,  there  came  a  tap  at  the  door  of  a  lone  inn  in  the  middle 
of  a  barren  moor.  The  door  was  opened,  and  there  stood 
without,  shivering  and  shaking,  a  poor  beggar,  his  rags 
soaked  with  rain,  and  his  hands  white  with  cold.  He 
asked  piteously  for  a  lodging,  and  it  was  cheerfully  granted 
him ;  there  was  not  a  spare  bed  in  the  house,  but  he  could 
lie  on  the  mat  before  the  kitchen  fire,  and  welcome. 

So  this  was  settled,  and  every  one  in  the  house  went  to 
bed  except  the  cook,  who  from  the  back  kitchen  could  see 
into  the  large  room  through  a  pane  of  glass  let  into  the  door. 
She  watched  the  beggar,  and  saw  him,  as  soon  as  he  was  left 
alone,  draw  himself  up  from  the  floor,  seat  himself  at  the 
table,  extract  from  his  pocket  a  brown  withered  human  hand, 
and  set  it  upright  in  the  candlestick.  He  then  anointed 
the  fingers,  and  applying  a  match  to  them,  they  began  to 
flame.  Filled  with  horror,  the  cook  rushed  up  the  back 
stairs,  and  endeavoured  to  arouse  her  master  and  the  men 
of  the  house.  But  all  was  in  vain — they  slept  a  charmed 
sleep ;  so  in  despair  she  hastened  down  again,  and  placed 
herself  at  her  post  of  observation. 

She  saw  the  fingers  of  the  hand  flaming,  but  the  thumb 

remained  unlighted,  because  one  inmate  of  the  house  was 

awake.      The  beggar   was  busy  collecting   the  valuables 

around  him  into  a  large  sack,  and  having  taken  all  he  cared 

*  Delrio.     See  also  Thorpe's  Mythology ,  vol.  iil.  p.  274- 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  rgg 

for  in  the  large  room,  he  entered  another.  On  this  the 
woman  ran  in,  and,  seizing  the  light,  tried  to  extinguish  the 
flames.  But  this  was  not  so  easy.  She  blew  at  them,  but 
they  burnt  on  as  before.  She  poured  the  dregs  of  a  beer 
jug  over  them,  but  they  blazed  up  the  brighter.  As  a  last 
resource,  she  caught  up  a  jug  of  milk,  and  dashed  it  over 
the  four  lambent  flames,  and  they  died  out  at  once.  Utter- 
ing a  loud  cry,  she  rushed  to  the  door  of  the  apartment  the 
beggar  had  entered,  and  locked  it.  The  whole  family  was 
aroused,  and  the  thief  easily  secured  and  hanged.  This 
tale  is  told  in  Northumberland. 


BETTY  CHIDLEY  THE  WITCH.i 

A  FAMILY  of  the  name  of  Ambler  occupied  a  farm  at 
Wilderley,  near  Pulverbatch,  and  in  a  little  cottage  in  a 
neighbouring  dale  lived  an  old  woman,  commonly  called 
"Betty  Chidley  from  the  bottom  of  Betchcot,"  who  was 
much  in  the  habit  of  begging  at  the  farmhouse,  and 
generally  got  what  she  asked  for.  One  day  Betty  came  on 
her  usual  errand,  and  found  the  farmer's  wife  mixing  some 
"  supping  "  for  the  calves.  She  watched  the  good  meal  and 
milk  stirred  together  over  the  fire,  took  a  fancy  to  it,  and 
begged  for  a  share.  Mrs.  Ambler,  rather  vexed,  spoke 
sharply,  and  refused  to  give  her  any. 

Betty  only  said  in  a  meaning  tone :  "  The  calves  wenna 
eat  the  suppin'  now." 

Little  notice  was  taken  of  her  speech  at  the  time,  but 
when  the  maid  carried  out  the  pail  of  carefully-prepared 
"  suppin' "  to  the  calves,  they  utterly  refused  to  touch  it. 
Three  times  over  was  the  attempt  made  to  give  it  them,  but 
in  vain. 

Then  Betty's  ominous  words  were  called  to  mind,  and  as 
quickly  as  might  be  she  was  sent  for  to  the  farm,  and 
desired  to  bless  the  calves.  "  Me  bless  your  calves ! "  she 
said ;  "  what  have  I  to  do  with  your  calves  ?  "  but  at  last  she 
yielded  to  their  entreaties,  and  said :  '*  My  God  bless  the 
calves."  But  the  creatures  still  refused  to  eat.  Then 
Mrs.  Ambler   begged  her  to  leave    out  the  word   "  my." 

^  Miss  C.  S.  Burne,  Shropshire  Folk-Lore^  p.  151. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.     201 

After  much  pressure  she  gave  way,  and  consented  to  repeat 
the  simple  words  :  "God  bless  the  calves."  Mrs.  Ambler 
then  herself  took  the  "  suppin'  "  to  the  hungry  calves,  and 
to  her  delight  they  came  to  meet  her  at  the  door  of  their 
house,  and  ate  their  food  with  hearty  appetite.  The  story 
has  been  handed  down  in  the  family  ever  since,  and  was 
related  to  the  present  writer  by  a  great-grand-daughter  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ambler,  who  had  it  from  her  great-aunt,  one 
of  their  daughters. 


THE  BAG  OF  FLOUR.1 

There  was  a  woman  who  lived  near  Cheadle,  who  went  to 
the  mill  one  day  to  get  a  bag  of  flour  for  baking,  and  as  she 
came  back  she  met  an  old  witch.  "  Good  day,"  said  the 
witch.  "Good  day,"  said  the  woman  again.  •'  What's  that 
you've  got  on  your  head  ?  "  said  the  witch.  "  It's  flour  I'm 
taking  home  for  my  baking,"  said  the  woman.  "  It  isn't 
flour,  it's  manure,"  said  the  witch.  "  It's  sound  flour ! " 
said  the  woman ;  "  I've  fetched  it  straight  from  the  mill,  and 
I'm  going  to  bake  with  it  as  soon  as  ever  I  get  home." 
"  It's  nothing  at  all  but  a  bag  of  manure,"  said  the  witch, 
and  ofi"  she  went. 

Now  the  woman  knew  very  well  that  it  was  flour  she  had 
in  her  bag,  but  this  made  her  feel  so  uncomfortable,  that  as 
soon  as  the  witch  was  out  of  sight,  she  put  down  the  bag  off 
her  head  and  opened  it  and  looked  in.  And  there,  sure 
enough,  it  was  not  flour  at  all,  nothing  but  manure !  Well 
she  thought,  as  she  had  carried  it  so  far,  she  might  as  well 
carry  it  all  the  way,  so  she  took  it  up  again,  and  went  home 
and  set  it  down  by  the  pig-sty.  In  the  evening  her  husband 
came  home. 

"  Whatever  have  you  put  that  bag  of  flour  down  by  the 
pig-sty  for  ?  "  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  came  into  the  house. 
"Oh,"  said  she,  "that's  not  flour,  that's  only  a  bag  of 
manure."  "  Nonsense ! "  said  he,  "  what  are  you  talking 
of?     I  tell  you  it's  flour.     Why,  it's  sheeding  [spilling]  all 

*  Miss  C.  S.  Bume,  Shropshire  Folk-Lore,  p.  159. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES.     203 

over  the  place ! "  So  they  went  to  look,  and  there  actually 
it  was  flour  again  the  same  as  at  first ;  and  they  took  it  into 
the  house,  and  very  glad  the  woman  was  to  get  it  back. 
And  that  was  the  only  thing  the  witch  was  ever  known  to 
turn  [transform]  back  again.  She  turned  a  many  things, 
but  never  a  one  back  again  but  that. 


KENTSHAM  BELL-i 

Great  Tom  of  Kentsham  was  the  greatest  bell  ever  brought 
to  England,  but  it  never  reached  Kentsham  safely,  nor 
hung  in  any  English  tower.  Where  Kentsham  is  I  cannot 
tell  you,  but  long,  long  ago  the  good  folk  of  the  place 
determined  to  have  a  larger  and  finer  bell  in  their  steeple 
than  any  other  parish  could  boast.  At  that  time  there 
was  a  famous  bell-foundry  abroad,  where  all  the  greatest 
bells  were  cast,  and  thither  too  sent  many  others  who 
wanted  greater  bells  than  could  be  cast  in  England.  And 
so  it  came  to  pass  at  length  that  Great  Tom  of  Lincoln, 
and  Great  Tom  of  York,  and  Great  Tom  of  Christchurch, 
and  Great  Tom  of  Kentsham,  were  all  founded  at  the 
same  time,  and  all  embarked  on  board  the  same  vessel, 
and  carried  safely  to  the  shore  of  dear  old  England.  Then 
they  set  about  landing  them,  and  this  was  anxious  work, 
but  little  by  little  it  was  done,  and  Tom  of  Lincoln,  Tom 
of  York,  Tom  of  Christchurch,  were  safely  laid  on  English 
ground.  And  then  came  the  turn  of  Tom  of  Kentsham, 
which  was  the  greatest  Tom  of  all.  Little  by  little  they 
raised  him,  and  prepared  to  draw  him  to  the  shore;  but 
just  in  the  midst  of  the  work  the  captain  grew  so  anxious 
and  excited  that  he  swore  an  oath.  That  very  moment 
the  ropes  which  held  the  bell  snapped  in  two,  and  Great 
Tom  of  Kentsham  slid  over  the  ship's  side  into  the  water, 
and  rolled  away  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

*  Folk-Lore  Journal,  vol.  ii.  p.  20. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES.     205 

Then  the  people  went  to  the  cunning  man  and  asked 
him  what  they  should  do.  And  he  said:  "Take  six  yoke 
of  white  milch-kine  which  have  never  borne  the  yoke, 
and  take  fresh  withy  bands  which  have  never  been  used 
before,  and  let  no  man  speak  a  word  either  good  or  bad 
till  the  bell  is  at  the  top  of  the  hill." 

So  they  took  six  yoke  of  white  milch-kine  which  had 
never  borne  the  yoke,  and  harnessed  them  with  fresh  withy- 
bands  which  had  never  been  used,  and  bound  these  to 
the  bell  as  it  lay  in  the  shallow  water,  and  long  it  was 
ere  they  could  move  it.  But  still  the  kine  struggled  and 
pulled,  and  the  withy-bands  held  firm,  and  at  last  the  bell 
was  on  dry  ground.  Slowly,  slowly  they  drew  it  up  the 
hill,  moaning  and  groaning  with  unearthly  sounds  as  it 
went;  slowly,  slowly,  and  no  one  spoke,  and  they  nearly 
reached  the  top  of  the  hill.  Now  the  captain  had  been 
wild  with  grief  when  he  saw  that  he  had  caused  his  precious 
freight  to  be  lost  in  the  waters  just  as  they  had  reached 
the  shore;  and  when  he  beheld  it  recovered  again  and 
so  nearly  placed  in  safety,  he  could  not  contain  his  joy, 
but  sang  out  merrily : 

"  In  spite  of  all  the  devils  in  hell, 
We  have  got  to  land  old  Kentsham  Bell." 

Instantly  the  withy-bands  broke  in  the  midst,  and  the  bell 
bounded  back  again  down  the  sloping  hillside,  rolling  over 
and  over,  faster  and  faster,  with  unearthly  clanging,  till 
it  sank  far  away  in  the  very  depths  of  the  sea.  And  no 
man  has  ever  seen  it  since,  but  many  have  heard  it  tolling 
beneath  the  waves,  and  if  you  go  there  you  may  hear 
it  too. 


GHOSTS. 


A  BISHOP'S  GHOST.i 

Henry  Burgwash,  who  became  Bishop  of  Lincoln  on 
the  28th  of  May  1320,  is  chiefly  memorable  on  account 
of  a  curious  ghost  story  recorded  of  him  in  connection  with 
the  manor  of  Fingest,  in  Bucks.  Until  the  year  1845, 
Buckinghamshire  was  in  the  diocese  of  Lincoln,  and 
formerly  the  bishops  of  that  see  possessed  considerable 
estates  and  two  places  of  residence  in  the  county.  They 
had  the  palace  of  Wooburn,  near  Marlow,  and  a  manorial 
residence  at  Fingest,  a  small  secluded  village  near  Wycomb. 
Their  manor-house  of  Fingest,  the  ruins  of  which  still 
exist,  stood  near  the  church,  and  was  but  a  plain  mansion, 
of  no  great  size  or  pretensions.  And  why  those  princely 
prelates,  who  possessed  three  or  four  baronial  palaces,  and 
scores  of  manor-houses  superior  to  this,  chose  so  often  to 
reside  here,  is  unknown.  Perhaps  it  was  on  account  of 
its  sheltered  situation,  or  from  its  suitableness  for  meditation, 
or  because  the  surrounding  country  was  thickly  wooded 
and  well  stocked  with  deer;  for  in  the  "merrie  days  of 
Old  England,"  bishops  thought  no  harm  in  heading  a 
hunting  party.  Be  this  as  it  may,  certain  it  is  that  many 
of  the  early  prelates  of  Lincoln,  although  their  palace  of 

^  Chambers's  Book  of  Days ^  vol.  L  p.  690. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.     207 

Wooburn  was  near  at  hand,  often  preferred  to  reside  at 
their  humble  manor-house  of  Fingest.  One  of  these  was 
Henry  Burgwash,  who  has  left  reminiscences  of  his  residence 
here  more  amusing  to  posterity  than  creditable  to  himself. 
**  He  was,"  says  Fuller,  "  neither  good  for  church  nor  state, 
sovereign  nor  subjects ;  but  was  covetous,  ambitious,  rebel- 
lious, injurious.  Yet  he  was  twice  lord  treasurer,  once 
chancellor,  and  once  sent  ambassador  to  Bavaria.  He  died 
A.D.  1340.  Such  as  wish  to  be  merry,"  continues  Fuller, 
"may  read  the  pleasant  story  of  his  apparition  being 
condemned  after  death  to  be  viridis  viridarius — a  green 
forester."  In  his  Church  History,  Fuller  gives  this  pleasant 
story :  "  This  Burgwash  was  he  who,  by  mere  might,  against 
all  right  and  reason,  took  in  the  common  land  of  many 
poor  people  (without  making  the  least  reparation),  there- 
with to  complete  his  park  at  Tinghurst  (Fingest).  These 
wronged  persons,  though  seeing  their  own  bread,  beef,  and 
mutton  turned  into  the  bishop's  venison,  durst  not  contest 
with  him  who  was  Chancellor  of  England,  though  he  had 
neither  law  nor  equity  in  his  proceeding."  He  persisted 
in  this  cruel  act  of  injustice  even  to  the  day  of  his  death ; 
but  having  brought  on  himself  the  hatred  and  maledictions 
of  the  poor,  he  could  not  rest  quietly  in  his  grave ;  for  his 
spirit  was  doomed  to  wander  about  that  land  which  he  had, 
while  living,  so  unjustly  appropriated  to  himself.  It  so 
happened,  however,  as  we  are  gravely  informed  by  his 
biographer,  that  on  a  certain  night  he  appeared  to  one  of 
his  former  familiar  friends,  apparelled  like  a  forester,  all 
in  green,  with  a  bow  and  quiver,  and  a  bugle-horn 
hanging  by  his  side.  To  this  gentleman  he  made  known 
his  miserable  case.  He  said,  that  on  account  of  the 
injuries  he  had  done  the  poor  while  living,  he  was  now 
compelled  to  be  the  park-keeper  of  that  place  which  he 


2o8    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  V  TALES. 

had  so  wrongfully  enclosed.  He  therefore  entreated  his 
friend  to  repair  to  the  canons  of  Lincoln,  and  in  his  name 
to  request  them  to  have  the  bishop's  park  reduced  to  its 
former  extent,  and  to  restore  to  the  poor  the  land  which 
he  had  taken  from  them.  His  friend  duly  carried  his 
message  to  the  canons,  who,  with  equal  readiness,  complied 
with  their  dead  bishop's  ghostly  request,  and  deputed  one 
of  their  prebendaries,  William  Bacheler,  to  see  the  restor- 
ation properly  effected.  The  bishop's  park  was  reduced, 
and  the  common  restored  to  its  former  dimensions;  and 
the  ghostly  park-keeper  was  no  more  seen. 


A  CLERGYMAN'S  GHOST.i 

In  the  south  of  Devon,  some  eighteen  or  twenty  years  ago, 
a  reverend  gentleman,  of  large  landed  property,  held  a 
small  benefice  in  his  immediate  neighbourhood,  for  the 
purpose  of  evading  residence  in  another  quarter.  He  was 
accustomed  to  perform  the  duty  every  Sunday,  and  was 
conveyed  to  the  church  in  his  chariot  through  one  of  those 
narrow,  shady  lanes  for  which  that  country  was  then  so 
justly  famed.  He  died,  and  his  remains  were  consigned  to 
the  vault  in  the  church  of  the  above-mentioned  benefice, 
with  much  pomp  and  ceremony,  and  followed  by  a  long 
procession  of  friends,  tenants,  and  the  surrounding  neigh- 
bourhood. But  his  spirit  was  not  supposed  to  rest  in 
peace.  Villagers  returning  from  their  labours  had  been 
terrified  by  the  sound  of  carriage-wheels  in  the  shady  lane ; 
and  one  had  even  seen  the  chariot  itself  drawn  by  headless 
horses.  The  rumour  spread,  till  it  was  confidently  asserted 
in  the  cider  shops  that  "twelve  parsons"  had  been  con- 
vened to  lay  the  spirit  in  the  Red  Sea.  Still,  the  lane  was 
believed  to  be  haunted;  and  on  investigating  the  reason 
why  the  spell  had  not  taken  effect,  it  was  conjectured  that, 
as  one  of  the  twelve  parsons  had  been  the  intimate  friend 
of  the  deceased — as  he  knawed  the  trick — he  would  com- 
municate it  to  him,  and  so  render  it  abortive.  That  parson 
was  therefore  struck  out  of  the  list,  and  the  vicar  of  an 

^  Athenaum,  7th  November  1846,  p.  1142,  quoted  by  Jabez  Allies, 
On  the  Antiquities  and  Folk-Lore  of  Worcestershire ^  p.  464. 


2IO    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

adjoining  parish,  lately  come  into  residence,  from  "  Lunnun 
town,"  did  it  all  hisself^  and  neither  chariot  nor  horses  was 
ever  knawed  to  walk  again.  This  superstition  was  current 
under  the  immediate  knowledge  of  the  writer  of  this 
anecdote. 


THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE.i 

About  half  a  mile  from  Tavistock  there  is  a  farm  called 
Down  House ;  the  dwelling  itself  was  rebuilt  about  eleven 
or  twelve  years  ago.  It  was  considered  before  an  ancient 
place,  and  haunted  by  ghosts.  Here  is  a  story  of  one. 
The  family  who  resided  there  well  knew  the  hovu:  of  the 
night  in  which  the  ghosts  made  their  appearance,  and 
always  took  care  to  go  to  bed  before  they  came.  But  it 
happened  on  a  time  that  a  child  was  very  ill,  and  asked  its 
mother  for  water.  She  went  to  the  pitcher  to  get  some, 
when  the  child  refused  any  but  such  as  might  be  got 
directly  from  the  pump.  The  mother  became  quite  dis- 
tressed, unwilling  to  displease  the  child,  yet  afraid  to  go  down 
to  the  pump,  as  it  was  about  the  hour  in  which  the  ghost 
walked.  She  considered  upon  it  a  little  while,  and  at  last 
said :  "  In  the  name  of  God  I  will  go  down."  She  did  so. 
Passing  over  the  stairs  she  perceived  a  shadow,  and  then 
she  heard  footsteps ;  and  when  she  came  to  the  pump  she 
felt  a  hand  on  her  shoulder.  She  turned  and  perceived 
a  tall  man.  Summoning  a  good  resolution,  however,  she 
said :  "  In  the  name  of  God,  why  troublest  thou  me  ?  "  The 
ghost  replied  :  **  It  is  well  for  thee  that  thou  hast  spoken  to 
me  in  the  name  of  God ;  this  being  the  last  time  allotted 
me  to  trouble  this  world,  or  else  I  should  have  injured  thee. 
Now  do  as  I  tell  thee,  and  be  not  afraid.     Come  with  me, 

^  Mrs.    Bray,    Tlie  Borders  of  the  Tamar  and  the  Ttrpy,  voL  U- 
p.  129. 


212     ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

and  I  will  direct  thee  to  a  something  which  shall  remove 
this  pump.     Under  it  is  concealed  treasure." 

This  something  was  procured,  and  applied  as  the  ghost 
directed.  The  pump  was  quickly  removed,  when  under  it 
there  lay  a  great  deal  of  money.  She  was  desired  to  take 
up  the  treasure  and  stock  her  farm  with  it.  And  the  spirit 
told  her  that  if  ever  any  person  molested  or  deprived  her  of 
her  property,  he  would  suffer  well  for  it.  He  then  ordered 
her  to  go  and  give  the  water  to  the  child,  who,  in  reward 
for  her  courage  and  trust  in  God,  should  recover.  The 
cock  crew ;  directly  the  figure  dwindled  again  to  a  shadow, 
ascended  through  the  air,  and  she  watched  till  he  soon 
became  a  small  bright  cloud. 


GHOST-LAYING  STORIES. 


Some  years  back  a  clergyman,  on  taking  possession  of  a 
living  on  the  confines  of  Dartmoor,  found  it  necessary  to 
enlarge  the  house,  which  was  really  little  better  than  the 
peasants'  cottages  around  it.  He  lengthened  the  one 
sitting-room,  and  made  it  into  a  tolerable  dining-room, 
adding  a  drawing-room  and  two  or  three  bedrooms.  These 
improvements  satisfied  his  wife  and  children;  but  there  was 
one  interested  party  whom  he  had  left  out  of  consideration 
— the  spirit  of  his  predecessor,  an  old  gentleman  who  had 
outlived  all  his  family,  and  passed  many  solitary  years  in 
the  remote  parsonage. 

And  ere  long  the  consequences  of  this  neglect  appeared. 
Sounds  were  soon  heard  of  an  evening  as  though  a  figure  in 
a  dressing-gown  were  sweeping  in  and  out  of  the  rooms, 
and  treading  with  a  soft  yet  heavy  tread,  and  this  particu- 
larly in  the  dining-room,  where  the  old  Vicar  had  spent  the 
last  years  of  his  life,  sitting  over  the  fire,  or  pacing  up  and 
down  in  his  dressing-gown  and  slippers.  The  eerie  sounds 
began  at  nightfall,  and  continued  at  intervals  till  morning. 
Uneasiness  pervaded  the  household.  Servants  gave  warn- 
ing and  went  away ;  no  one  applied  for  their  vacant  places. 
The  daughters  fell  ill,  and  were  sent  away  for  change  of  air; 

^  W.  Henderson,  Notes  on  the  Folk-Lore  of  the  Northern  Counties  of 
England  and  the  Borders,  p.  336. 

16 


214  ENGLISH  FOLK 

then  their  mother  was  anxious  about  them,  and  went  to  see 
how  they  were  going  on ;  and  so  the  Vicar  was  left  alone, 
at  the  mercy  of  his  predecessor's  ghost.  At  first  he  bore 
up  bravely,  but  one  Saturday  night,  while  he  was  sitting  up 
late,  and  wearily  going  over  his  Sunday  sermons,  the  "  pad, 
pad "  of  the  measured  tread  struck  so  painfully  upon  his 
nerves  that  he  could  bear  it  no  longer.  He  started  up, 
opened  the  window,  jumped  out,  and  made  the  best  of  his 
way  to  the  nearest  farm,  where  lived  his  churchwarden,  an 
honest  Dartmoor  farmer. 

There  the  Vicar  found  a  kind  welcome;  and  when  he 
told  his  tale,  in  a  hesitating  sort  of  way,  owning  his  dislike 
to  solitude  and  apologising  for  the  weakness  of  nerves  which 
made  him  fancy  he  heard  the  sounds  so  often  described  to 
him,  his  host  broke  in  with  a  declaration  of  his  belief  that 
the  old  Vicar  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  just  because  of  the 
alterations  in  the  house  he  had  lived  in  so  many  years. 
**  He  never  could  abide  changes,"  pursued  the  farmer,  "  but 
he's  had  his  day,  and  you  should  have  yours  now.  He 
must  be  laid,  that's  certain ;  and  if  you'll  go  away  next 
week  to  your  missis  and  the  young  ladies,  I'll  see  to  it" 

And  see  to  it  he  did,  A  jury  of  seven  parsons  was  con- 
voked, and  each  sat  for  half-an-hour  with  a  candle  in  his 
hand,  and  it  burned  out  its  time  with  each,  showing  plainly 
that  none  of  them  could  lay  the  ghost.  Nor  was  this  any 
wonder,  for  were  they  not  all  old  acquaintances  of  his,  so 
that  he  knew  all  their  tricks  ?  The  spirit  could  afford  to 
defy  them ;  it  was  not  worth  his  while  to  blow  their  candles 
out.  But  the  seventh  parson  was  a  stranger,  and  a  scholar 
fresh  from  Oxford.  In  his  hand  the  light  went  out  at  once. 
He  was  clearly  the  man  to  lay  the  ghost,  and  he  did  not 
shrink  from  his  task;  he  laid  it  at  once,  and  in  a  beer 
barrel. 


AND  FAIRY  TALES,  215 

But  now  a  fresh  difficulty  arose.  What  was  to  be  done 
with  the  beer-barrel  and  its  mysterious  tenant?  Where 
could  it  be  placed  secure  from  the  touch  of  any  curious 
hand,  which  might  be  tempted  to  broach  the  barrel,  and  set 
free  the  ghost  ?  Nothing  occurred  to  the  assembled  com- 
pany but  to  roll  the  thing  into  one  corner,  and  send  for  the 
mason  to  inclose  it  with  stones  and  mortar.  This  done,  the 
room  looked  very  odd  with  one  corner  cut  off.  Uniformity 
would  be  attained  if  the  other  three  were  filled  up  as  well ; 
and  besides,  the  ghost  would  be  safer  if  no  one  knew  the 
very  spot  in  which  he  was  reposing.  So  the  other  corners 
were  blocked  up,  and  with  success.  What  matters  it  if  the 
room  be  smaller ! — the  parsonage  has  never  been  haunted 
since. 

There  lived  in  the  town  of ,  in  that  part  of  England 

which  lies  towards  the  borders  of  Wales,  a  very  curious 
simple  kind  of  a  man ;  though,  simple  as  he  seemed,  people 
all  said  there  was  more  cunning  in  him  than  there  appeared 
to  be,  and  that  he  knew  a  good  deal  that  other  people  did 
not  know.  Now  there  was  in  the  same  town  a  certain  large 
and  very  old  house,  and  one  of  the  rooms  was  haunted  by 
a  ghost,  which  not  only  hindered  people  from  making  any 
use  of  that  room,  but  was  also  very  troublesome  to  them  in 
other  ways.  The  man  whom  I  have  just  mentioned  was 
reported  to  be  very  clever  at  dealing  with  ghosts,  and  the 
proprietor  of  the  haunted  house,  by  the  advice  of  some  of 
his  friends,  sent  for  him  and  asked  him  if  he  would  under- 
take to  make  the  ghost  quit  the  house.  Tommy,  for  that 
was  the  name  the  man  generally  went  by,  agreed  to  do  this, 
on  condition  that  he  should  have  with  him  in  the  room 
^  Folk- Lore  Record^  vol.  ii.  p.  176. 


2t6     ENGLISH  POLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

which  the  ghost  frequented  three  things — an  empty  bottle, 
a  bottle  of  brandy  with  a  tumbler,  and  a  pitcher  of  water. 
So  Tommy  had  a  fine  fire  in  the  room,  for  it  was  a  cold 
winter  evening,  and  he  locked  the  door  safely  in  the  inside, 
and  sat  down  to  pass  the  night  drinking  brandy  and  water. 
Well,  just  as  the  clock  struck  twelve,  he  was  roused  by  a 
slight  noise,  and  looking  up,  lo!  there  was  the  ghost 
standing  before  him.  Says  the  ghost:  "Well,  Tommy, 
how  are  ye?"  "Pretty  well,  thank  ye,"  says  he;  "but 
pray  how  did  ye  know  my  name?"  "Oh,  very  well 
indeed,"  said  the  ghost.  "And  how  did  ye  get  in?" 
"Oh,  very  easily."  "Not  through  the  door,  I'm  sure." 
"No,  not  at  all,  but  through  the  keyhole."  "D'ye  say  so? 
None  of  your  tricks  upon  me ;  I  won't  believe  you  came 
through  the  keyhole."  "Won't  ye?  but  I  did."  "I'm 
sure  you  can't  get  through  the  keyhole."  "I'm  sure  I 
can."  "  Well,  then,"  says  Tommy,  pointing  to  the  empty 
bottle,  which  he  pretended  to  have  emptied,  "  if  you  can 
come  through  the  keyhole  you  can  get  into  this  bottle,  but 
I  won't  believe  you  can  do  either."  Now  the  ghost  began 
to  be  very  angry  that  Tommy  should  doubt  his  powers  of 
getting  into  the  bottle,  so  he  asserted  most  confidently  that 
the  thing  was  easy  to  be  done.  "No,"  said  Tommy,  "I 
won't  believe  it  till  I  see  you  get  in."  "Here  goes  then," 
said  the  ghost,  and  sure  enough  into  the  bottle  he  went, 
and  Tommy  corked  him  up  quite  tight,  so  that  he  could 
not  get  out,  and  he  took  the  bottle  to  the  bridge  where  the 
river  was  wide  and  deep,  and  he  threw  the  bottle  exactly 
over  the  keystone  of  the  middle  arch  into  the  river,  and 
the  ghost  was  never  heard  of  after. 


THE  ROARING  BULL  O'  BAGBURY.i 

There  was  a  very  bad  man  lived  at  Bagbury  Farm,  and 
when  he  died  it  was  said  that  he  had  never  done  but  two 
good  things  in  his  life,  and  the  one  was  to  give  a  waistcoat 
to  a  poor  old  man,  and  the  other  was  to  give  a  piece  of 
bread  and  cheese  to  a  poor  boy,  and  when  this  man  died  he 
made  a  sort  of  confession  of  this.  But  when  he  was  dead 
his  ghost  would  not  rest,  and  he  would  get  in  the  buildings 
in  the  shape  of  a  bull,  and  roar  till  the  boards  and  the 
shutters  and  the  tiles  would  fly  off  the  building,  and  it  was 
impossible  for  any  one  to  live  near  him.  He  never  came 
till  about  nine  or  ten  at  night,  but  he  got  so  rude  at  last 
that  he  would  come  about  seven  or  eight  at  night,  and  he 
was  so  troublesome  that  they  sent  for  twelve  parsons  to  lay 
him.  And  the  parsons  came,  and  they  got  him  under,  but 
they  could  not  lay  him  ;  but  they  got  him,  in  the  shape  of 
a  bull  all  the  time,  up  into  Hyssington  Church.  And  when 
they  got  him  into  the  church,  they  all  had  candles,  and  one 
old  blind  parson,  who  knowed  him,  and  knowed  what  a 
rush  he  would  make,  he  carried  his  candle  in  his  top  boot. 
And  he  made  a  great  rush,  and  all  the  candles  went  out,  all 
but  the  blind  parson's,  and  he  said:  "You  light  your 
candles  by  mine."  And  while  they  were  in  the  church, 
before  they  laid  him,  the  bull  made  such  a  burst  that  he 
cracked  the  wall  of  the  church  from  the  top  to  the  bottom, 
and  the  crack  was  left  as  it  was  for  years,  till  the  church 

^  Miss  C.  S.  Burne,  Shropshire  Folk-Lore,  p.  lo8. 


2i8    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

was  done  up ;  it  was  left  on  purpose  for  people  to  see.  I've 
seen  it  hundreds  of  times.  Well,  they  got  the  bull  down 
at  last,  into  a  snuff-box,  and  he  asked  them  to  lay  him 
under  Bagbury  Bridge,  and  that  every  mare  that  passed 
over  should  lose  her  foal,  and  every  woman  her  child  ;  but 
they  would  not  do  this,  and  they  laid  him  in  the  Red  Sea 
for  a  thousand  years. 

I  remember  the  old  clerk  at  Hyssington.  He  was  an  old 
man  then,  sixty  years  ago,  and  he  told  me  he  could 
remember  the  old  blind  parson  well  "  But  long  after  the 
ghost  had  been  laid  in  the  Red  Say^  folk  were  always 
frightened  to  go  over  Bagbury  Bridge,"  said  John  Thomas. 
"  I've  bin  over  it  myself  many  a  time  with  horses,  and  I 
always  got  off  the  horse  and  made  him  go  quietly,  and  went 
pit-pat,  ever  so  softly,  for  fear  of  him  hearing  me  and 
coming  out." 


THE  WHITE  LADY  OF  BLENKINSOPP.i 

Like  almost  all  the  old  Northumbrian  castles  and  peels, 
Blenkinsopp  has  the  reputation  of  being  haunted.  A 
gloomy  vault  under  the  castle  is  said  to  have  buried  in  it  a 
large  chest  of  gold,  hidden  in  the  troublous  times :  some 
say  by  a  lady  whose  spirit  cannot  rest  so  long  as  it  is  there, 
and  who  used  formerly  to  appear — though  not,  that  we  have 
heard,  for  the  last  four  or  five  decades — clothed  in  white 
from  head  to  foot,  and  so  was  known  as  "  The  White 
Lady." 

About  the  beginning  of  this  century  several  of  the  least 
ruinous  apartments  in  the  castle  were  still  occupied  by  a 
hind  on  the  estate  and  some  cotters.  Indeed,  two  or  three 
of  them  continued  to  be  so  down  to  the  year  1820  or 
thereabouts.  The  visits  of  the  White  Lady  seem  to  have 
been  unfrequent  latterly,  and  for  some  considerable  time 
they  had  ceased.  One  night,  however,  shortly  after  retiring 
to  rest,  the  hind  and  his  wife  (so  the  story  goes)  were 
alarmed  on  hearing  loud  and  reiterated  screams  coming 
from  an  adjoining  room,  in  which  one  of  the  children,  a  boy 
of  about  eight  years  of  age,  had  been  laid  to  sleep.  On 
hastily  rushing  in  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  they  found 
the  boy  sitting  trembling  on  his  pillow,  terror-struck  and 
bathed  in  perspiration.  "  The  White  Lady !  the  White 
Lady !  "  he  screamed,  as  soon  as  he  saw  them.     "  What 

^  Monthly  Chronicle  of  North- Country  Lore  and  Legend^  March  1888, 
p.  los. 


220  ENGLISH  FOLK 

lady  ?  **  cried  the  astonished  parents,  looking  round  the 
room ;  "  there  is  no  lady  here."  "  She  is  gone,"  replied 
the  boy,  "  and  she  looked  so  angry  at  me  because  I  would 
not  go  with  her.  She  was  a  fine  lady,  and  she  sat  down  on 
my  bedside  and  wrung  her  hands  and  cried  sore.  Then 
she  kissed  me  and  asked  me  to  go  with  her,  and  she  would 
make  me  a  rich  man,  as  she  had  buried  a  large  box  of  gold, 
many  hundred  years  since,  down  in  the  vault;  and  she 
would  give  it  to  me,  as  she  could  not  rest  so  long  as  it  was 
there.  When  1  told  her  I  durst  not  go,  she  said  she  would 
carry  me,  and  she  was  lifting  me  up  when  I  cried  out  and 
frightened  her  away."  The  hind  and  his  wife,  both  very 
sensible  people,  concluded  that  the  child  had  been  dreaming, 
and  at  length  succeeded  in  quieting  him  and  getting  him 
to  sleep.  But  for  three  successive  nights  they  were  disturbed 
in  the  same  manner,  the  boy  repeating  the  same  story  with 
little  variation,  so  that  they  were  forced  to  let  him  sleep  in 
the  same  apartment  with  themselves,  when  the  apparition 
no  longer  visited  him.  The  eflfect  upon  the  boy's  mind, 
however,  was  such  that  nothing  ever  afterwards  would 
induce  him  to  enter  into  any  part  of  the  old  castle  alone, 
even  in  daylight. 

The  legend  of  the  White  Lady  is  not  one  of  those  that 
unsophisticated  country  people  willingly  let  die;  and  the 
belief  that  treasure  lies  hidden  under  the  grim  old  ruin, 
waiting  to  be  disinterred,  is  probably  still  entertained  by 
not  a  few.  Indeed,  there  is  hardly  a  place  of  the  kind, 
either  in  this  country  or  any  other,  regarding  which  some 
such  impression  does  not  exist.  (See  Layard  on  the 
subject.) 

About  fifty  years  since,  we  are  told,  a  strange  lady  arrived 
at  the  village  of  Greenhead,  and  took  up  her  quarters  at  the 
inn  there.     She  told  the  landlady,  in  confidence,  that  she 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  221 

liad  had  a  wonderful  dream,  to  the  effect  that  a  large  chest 
of  gold  lay  buried  in  the  vault  of  Blenkinsopp  Castle,  and 
that  she  was  to  be  the  person  to  find  it.  She  stayed  several 
weeks,  awaiting  the  return  of  the  owner  of  the  property  to 
ask  leave  to  search ;  but  she  either  got  tired  of  waiting,  or 
could  not  obtain  permission,  and  so  she  went  away  without 
accomplishing  her  purpose,  and  the  hidden  treasure,  if  there 
be  such  a  thing  there,  remains  for  some  more  fortunate 
person  to  bring  to  the  light  of  day. 

Tradition  accounts  for  the  alleged  hiding  of  the  gold  in 
the  following  way : — One  of  the  castellans  in  the  middle 
ages,  named  Bryan  de  Blenkinsopp,  familiarly  Bryan 
Blenship,  was  as  avaricious  as  he  was  bold,  daring,  and 
lawless.  He  was  once  heard  to  say,  when  taunted  with 
being  a  fusty  old  bachelor,  that  he  would  never  marry  until 
he  met  with  a  lady  possessed  of  a  chest  of  gold  heavier 
than  ten  of  his  strongest  men  could  carry  into  his  castle ; 
and  fate,  it  seems,  had  ordained  that  he  would  keep  his 
word.  For,  going  to  the  wars  abroad,  whether  to  the  Holy 
Land  to  fight  against  the  Saracens,  or  to  Hungary  to  oppose 
the  Turks,  we  cannot  tell,  and  staying  away  several  years, 
he  met  with  a  lady  in  some  far  country,  who  came  up  to 
his  expectations,  courted  her,  married  her,  and  brought  her 
home,  together  with  a  chest  of  gold  which  it  took  twelve 
strong  men  to  lift.  Bryan  Blenship  was  now  the  richest 
man  in  the  North  of  England ;  but  it  soon  transpired  that 
his  riches  had  not  brought  him  happiness,  but  the  reverse. 
He  and  his  lady  quarrelled  continually — a  fact  which  could 
not  long  be  concealed ;  and  one  day  when  the  unhappy 
couple  had  had  a  more  serious  difference  than  usual,  Six 
Bryan  was  heard  to  utter  threats,  in  reply  to  his  wife's  bitter 
reproaches,  which  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  meant  to  get 
rid  of  her  as  soon  as  he  could  without  any  more  formality 


223    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

or  fuss  than  if  they  had  merely  been  "  handfasted,"  that  is, 
pledged  to  each  other  for  a  year  and  a  day.  The  lady 
muttered  something  in  return,  which  could  not  be  distinctly 
heard  by  the  servants,  and  so  the  affair,  for  the  nonce, 
seemed  to  end  But  a  very  short  time  afterwards — possibly 
the  next  night — the  indignant,  ill-used  lady  got  the  foreign 
men-servants  who  had  accompanied  her  to  the  castle  to  take 
up  the  precious  chest  and  bury  it  deep  in  some  secret  place 
out  of  her  miserly  husband's  reach,  where  it  lies  to  this  day. 
Accounts  differ  as  to  what  followed.  Some  say  Sir  Bryan 
disappeared  shortly  after  he  discovered  his  loss  ;  others  say 
the  lady  disappeared  first ;  but  it  is  affirmed  that  they  both 
disappeared  in  a  mysterious  manner,  and  that  neither  of 
them  was  ever  afterwards  seen.  It  was,  moreover,  sagely 
hinted  that  the  lady  was  "  something  uncanny," — in  plain 
terms,  an  imp  of  darkness,  sent  with  her  wealth  to  ensnare 
Sir  Bryan's  greedy  soul.  At  any  rate  folks  were  sure  that 
she  was  an  infidel,  for  she  never  went  to  church,  and  used 
on  Sundays  to  sing  hymns  to  Mahoun,  or  some  other  false 
god,  in  an  unknown  tongue  in  her  own  room. 


THE  HAUNTED  WIDOWER.^ 

A  LABOURING  man,  very  shortly  after  his  wife's  death,  sent 
to  a  servant  girl,  living  at  the  time  in  a  small  shipping  port, 
requesting  her  to  come  to  the  inn  to  him.  The  girl  went, 
and  over  a  "ha'  pint"  she  agreed  to  accept  him  as  her 
husband. 

All  went  on  pleasantly  enough  for  a  time.  One  evening 
the  man  met  the  girl.  He  was  silent  for  some  time  and 
sorrowful,  but  at  length  he  told  her  his  wife  had  come  back. 

"  What  do'st  mean  ? "  asked  the  girl ;  "  have  'e  seen 
hur  ?  " 

"  Naw,  I  han't  seed  her." 

"  Why,  how  do'st  knaw  it  is  her  then  ?  " 

The  poor  man  explained  to  her,  that  at  night,  when  in 
bed,  she  would  come  to  the  side  of  it,  and  "  flop  "  his  face ; 
and  there  was  no  mistaking  her  "flop." 

"  So  you  knawed  her  flop,  did  'e  ?"  asked  the  girl. 

"  Ay,  it  couldn't  be  mistook." 

"If  she  do  hunt  thee,"  said  the  girl,  "she'll  hunt  me; 
and  if  she  do  flop  'e,  shell  flop  me, — so  it  must  be  off" 
atween  us." 

The  unfortunate  flop  of  the  dead  wife  prevented  the  man 
from  securing  a  living  one. 

^  Robert  Hunt,  Popular  Romances  of  the  West  of  England,  ist 
series,  p.  264. 


THE  GHOST  OF  ROSEWARNE.1 

"EzEKiEL  Grosse,  gent,  attomey-at-law,"  bought  the 
lands  of  Rosewarne  from  one  of  the  De  Rosewarnes,  who 
had  become  involved  in  difficulties  by  endeavouring, 
without  sufficient  means,  to  support  the  dignity  of  his 
family.  There  is  reason  for  believing  that  Ezekiel  was  the 
legal  adviser  of  this  unfortunate  Rosewarne,  and  that  he 
was  not  over-honest  in  his  transactions  with  his  client 
However  this  may  be,  Ezekiel  Grosse  had  scarcely  made 
Rosewarne  his  dwelling-place  before  he  was  alarmed  by 
noises,  at  first  of  an  unearthly  character,  and  subsequently, 
one  very  dark  night,  by  the  appearance  of  the  ghost  himself 
in  the  form  of  a  worn  and  aged  man.  The  first  appearance 
was  in  the  park,  but  he  subsequently  repeated  his  visits  in 
the  house,  but  always  after  dark.  Ezekiel  Grosse  was  not  a 
man  to  be  terrified  at  trifles,  and  for  some  time  he  paid  but 
slight  attention  to  his  nocturnal  visitor.  Howbeit  the 
repetition  of  visits,  and  certain  mysterious  indications  on 
the  part  of  the  spectre,  became  annoying  to  Ezekiel.  One 
night,  when  seated  in  his  office  examining  some  deeds,  and 
being  rather  irritable,  having  lost  an  important  suit,  his 
visitor  approached  him,  making  some  strange  indications 
which  the  lawyer  could  not  understand.  Ezekiel  suddenly 
exclaimed,  "  In  the  name  of  God,  what  wantest  thou  ?  " 

^  Robert    Hunt,    Popular  Romances  of  the    West  of  England,  ist 
series,  p.  2S6. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES.     225 

"  To  show  thee,  Ezekiel  Grosse,  where  the  gold  for  which 
thou  longest  lies  buried." 

No  one  ever  lived  upon  whom  the  greed  of  gold  was 
stronger  than  on  Ezekiel,  yet  he  hesitated  now  that  his 
spectral  friend  had  spoken  so  plainly,  and  trembled  in  every 
limb  as  the  ghost  slowly  dehvered  himself  in  sepulchral 
tones  of  this  telling  speech. 

The  lawyer  looked  fixedly  on  the  spectre ;  but  he  dared 
not  utter  a  word.  He  longed  to  obtain  possession  of  the 
secret,  yet  he  feared  to  ask  him  where  he  was  to  find  this 
treasure.  The  spectre  looked  as  fixedly  at  the  poor 
trembling  lawyer,  as  if  enjoying  the  sight  of  his  terror.  At 
length,  lifting  his  finger,  he  beckoned  Ezekiel  to  follow  him, 
turning  at  the  same  time  to  leave  the  room.  Ezekiel  was 
glued  to  his  seat ;  he  could  not  exert  strength  enough  to 
move,  although  he  desired  to  do  so. 

**  Come  ! "  said  the  ghost,  in  a  hollow  voice.  The  lawyer 
was  powerless  to  come. 

"  Gold ! "  exclaimed  the  old  man,  in  a  whining  tone, 
though  in  a  louder  key. 

•'  Where  ?  "  gasped  Ezekiel 

"Follow  me,  and  I  will  shew  thee,"  said  the  ghost. 
Ezekiel  endeavoured  to  rise ;  but  it  was  in  vain. 

"  I  command  thee,  come ! "  almost  shrieked  the  ghost. 
Ezekiel  felt  that  he  was  compelled  to  follow  his  friend ;  and 
by  some  supernatural  power  rather  than  his  own,  he  followed 
the  spectre  out  of  the  room,  and  through  the  hall,  into  the 
park. 

They  passed  onward  through  the  night — the  ghost  gliding 
before  the  lawyer,  and  guiding  him  by  a  peculiar  phosphor- 
escent light,  which  appeared  to  glow  from  every  part  of  the 
form,  until  they  arrived  at  a  little  dell,  and  had  reached  a 
small  cairn  formed  of  granite  boulders.     By  this  the  spectre 


226  ENGLISH  FOLK 

rested ;  and  when  Ezekiel  had  approached  it,  and  was 
standing  on  the  other  side  of  the  cairn,  still  trembling,  the 
aged  man,  looking  fixedly  in  his  face,  said,  in  low  tones  : 

"Ezekiel  Grosse,  thou  longest  for  gold,  as  I  did.  I  won 
the  glittering  prize,  but  I  could  not  enjoy  it.  Heaps  of 
treasure  are  buried  beneath  those  stones ;  it  is  thine,  if  thou 
diggest  for  it.  Win  the  gold,  Ezekiel.  Glitter  with  the 
wicked  ones  of  the  world ;  and  when  thou  art  the  most 
joyous,  I  will  look  in  upon  thy  happiness."  The  ghost  then 
disappeared,  and  as  soon  as  Grosse  could  recover  himself 
from  the  extreme  trepidation — the  result  of  mixed  feelings 
— he  looked  about  him,  and  finding  himself  alone,  he 
exclaimed :  "  Ghost  or  devil,  I  will  soon  prove  whether  or 
not  thou  liest ! "  Ezekiel  is  said  to  have  heard  a  laugh, 
echoing  between  the  hills,  as  he  said  those  words. 

The  lawyer  noted  well  the  spot ;  returned  to  his  house ; 
pondered  on  all  the  circumstances  of  his  case;  and 
eventually  resolved  to  seize  the  earliest  opportunity,  when 
he  might  do  so  unobserved,  of  removing  the  stones,  and 
examining  the  ground  beneath  them. 

A  few  nights  after  this  Ezekiel  went  to  the  little  cairn, 
and  by  the  aid  of  a  crowbar,  he  soon  overturned  the  stones, 
and  laid  the  ground  bare.  He  then  commenced  digging, 
and  had  not  proceeded  far  when  his  spade  struck  against 
some  other  metal.  He  carefully  cleared  away  the  earth,  and 
he  then  felt — for  he  could  not  see,  having  no  light  with  him 
— that  he  had  uncovered  a  metallic  urn  of  some  kind.  He 
found  it  quite  impossible  to  lift  it,  and  he  was  therefore 
compelled  to  cover  it  up  again,  and  to  replace  the  stones 
sufficiently  to  hide  it  from  the  observation  of  any  chance 
wanderer. 

The  next  night  Ezekiel  found  that  this  urn,  which  was  of 
bronze,  contained  gold  coins  of  a  very  ancient  date.     He 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  '  227 

loaded  himself  with  his  treasure,  and  returned  home.  From 
time  to  time,  at  night,  as  Ezekiel  found  he  could  do  so 
without  exciting  the  suspicions  of  his  servants,  he  visited 
the  urn,  and  thus  by  degrees  removed  all  the  treasure  to 
Rosewarne  house  There  was  nothing  in  the  series  of 
circumstances  which  had  surrounded  Ezekiel  which  he 
could  less  understand  than  the  fact  that  the  ghost  of  the 
old  man  had  left  off  troubling  him  from  the  moment 
when  he  had  disclosed  to  him  the  hiding-place  of  this 
treasure. 

The  neighbouring  gentry  could  not  but  observe  the  rapid 
improvements  which  Ezekiel  Grosse  made  in  his  mansion, 
his  grounds,  in  his  personal  appearance,  and  indeed  in 
everything  by  which  he  was  surrounded.  In  a  short  time 
he  abandoned  the  law,  and  led  in  every  respect  the  life  of  a 
country  gentleman.  He  ostentatiously  paraded  his  power 
to  procure  all  earthly  enjoyments,  and,  in  spite  of  his 
notoriously  bad  character,  he  succeeded  in  drawing  many 
of  the  landed  proprietors  around  him. 

Things  went  well  with  Ezekiel.  The  man  who  could  in 
those  days  visit  London  in  his  own  carriage  and  four  was 
not  without  a  large  circle  of  flatterers.  The  lawyer  who  had 
struggled  hard,  in  the  outset  of  life,  to  secure  wealth,  and 
who  did  not  always  employ  the  most  honest  means  for 
doing  so,  now  found  himself  the  centre  of  a  circle  to  whom 
he  could  preach  honesty,  and  receive  from  them  expressions 
of  the  admiration  in  which  the  world  holds  the  possessor 
of  gold.  His  old  tricks  were  forgotten,  and  he  was  put  in 
places  of  honour.  This  state  of  things  continued  for  some 
time;  indeed,  Grosse's  entertainments  became  more  and 
more  splendid,  and  his  revels  more  and  more  seductive  to 
those  he  admitted  to  share  them  with  him.  The  Lord  of 
Rosewarne  was  the  Lord  of  the  West.     To  him  every  one 


«a8  ENGLISH  FOLK 

bowed  the  knee :  he  walked  the  Earth  as  the  proud  possessor 
of  a  large  share  of  the  planet 

It  was  Christmas-eve,  and  a  large  gathering  there  was  at 
Rosewame.  In  the  hall  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  in 
the  full  enjoyment  of  the  dance,  and  in  the  kitchen  all  the 
tenantry  and  the  servants  were  emulating  their  superiors. 
Everything  went  joyously;  and  when  mirth  was  in  full 
swing,  and  Ezekiel  felt  to  the  full  the  influence  of  wealth,  it 
appeared  as  if  in  one  moment  the  chill  of  death  had  fallen 
over  every  one.  The  dancers  paused,  and  looked  one  at 
another,  each  one  struck  with  the  other's  paleness;  and 
there,  in  the  middle  of  the  hall,  every  one  saw  a  strange  old 
man  looking  angrily,  but  in  silence,  at  Ezekiel  Grosse,  who 
was  fixed  in  terror,  blank  as  a  statue. 

No  one  had  seen  this  old  man  enter  the  hall,  yet  there  he 
was  in  the  midst  of  them.  It  was  but  for  a  minute,  and  he 
was  gone.  Ezekiel,  as  if  a  frozen  torrent  of  water  had 
thawed  in  an  instant,  roared  with  impetuous  laughter. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  for  a  Christmas  play  ? 
There  was  an  old  Father  Christmas  for  you !  Ha,  ha,  ha, 
ha !  How  frightened  you  all  look !  Butler,  order  the  men 
to  hand  round  the  spiced  wines !  On  with  the  dancing,  my 
friends !  It  was  only  a  trick,  ay,  and  a  clever  one,  which  I 
have  put  upon  you.     On  with  your  dancing,  my  friends  1 " 

Notwithstanding  his  boisterous  attempts  to  restore  the 
spirit  of  the  evening,  Ezekiel  could  not  succeed.  There 
was  an  influence  stronger  than  any  which  he  could  com- 
mand ;  and  one  by  one,  framing  sundry  excuses,  his  guests 
took  their  departure,  every  one  of  them  satisfied  that  all 
was  not  right  at  Rosewame. 

From  that  Christmas-eve  Grosse  was  a  changed  man. 
He  tried  to  be  his  former  self;  but  it  was  in  vain.  Again 
and  again  he  called  his  gay  companions  around  him ;  but  at 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  229 

every  feast  there  appeared  one  more  than  was  desired.  An 
aged  man — weird  beyond  measure — took  his  place  at  the 
table  in  the  middle  of  the  feast ;  and  although  he  spoke  not, 
he  exerted  a  miraculous  power  over  all.  No  one  dared  to 
move;  no  one  ventured  to  speak.  Occasionally  Ezekiel 
assumed  an  appearance  of  courage,  which  he  felt  not; 
rallied  his  guests,  and  made  sundry  excuses  for  the  presence 
of  his  aged  friend,  whom  he  represented  as  having  a  mental 
infirmity,  as  being  deaf  and  dumb.  On  all  such  occasions 
the  old  man  rose  from  the  table,  and,  looking  at  the  host, 
laughed  a  demoniac  laugh  of  joy,  and  departed  as  quietly  as 
he  came. 

The  natural  consequence  of  this  was  that  Ezekiel  Grosse's 
friends  fell  away  from  him,  and  he  became  a  lonely  man, 
amidst  his  vast  possessions — his  only  companion  being  his 
faithful  clerk,  John  Call. 

The  persecuting  presence  of  the  spectre  became  more 
and  more  constant ;  and  wherever  the  poor  lawyer  went, 
there  was  the  aged  man  at  his  side.  From  being  one  of  the 
finest  men  in  the  county,  he  became  a  miserably  attenuated 
and  bowed  old  man.  Misery  was  stamped  on  every  feature 
— terror  was  indicated  in  every  movement.  At  length  he 
appears  to  have  besought  his  ghostly  attendant  to  free  him 
of  his  presence.  It  was  long  before  the  ghost  would  listen 
to  any  terms;  but  when  Ezekiel  at  length  agreed  to  sur- 
render the  whole  of  his  wealth  to  any  one  whom  the  spectre 
might  indicate,  he  obtained  a  promise  that  upon  this  being 
carried  out,  in  a  perfectly  legal  manner,  in  favour  of  John 
Call,  that  he  should  no  longer  be  haunted. 

This  was,  after  numerous  struggles  on  the  part  of  Ezekiel 
to  retain  his  property,  or  at  least  some  portion  of  it,  legally 
settled,  and  John  Call  became  possessor  of  Rosewarne  and 
the  adioining  lands.     Grosse  was  then  informed  that  this 

17 


230    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES, 

evil  spirit  was  one  of  the  ancestors  of  the  Rosewarne,  from 
whom  by  his  fraudulent  dealings  he  obtained  the  place,  and 
that  he  was  allowed  to  visit  the  earth  again  for  the  purpose 
of  inflicting  the  most  condign  punishment  on  the  avaricious 
lawyer.  His  avarice  had  been  gratified,  his  pride  had  been 
pampered  to  the  highest ;  and  then  he  was  made  a  pitiful 
spectacle,  at  whom  all  men  pointed,  and  no  one  pitied.  He 
lived  on  in  misery,  but  it  was  for  a  short  time.  He  was 
found  dead;  and  the  country  people  ever  said  that  his 
death  was  a  violent  one ;  they  spoke  of  marks  on  his  body, 
and  some  even  asserted  that  the  spectre  of  De  Rosewarne 
was  seen  rejoicing  amidst  a  crowd  of  devils,  as  they  bore 
the  spirit  of  Ezekiel  over  Carn  Brea. 
Hals  thus  quaintly  tells  this  story : — 

"  Roswame,  in  this  parish,  gave  to  its  owner  the  name  of  De  Ros- 
warne,  one  of  which  tribe  sold  those  lands,  temp.  James  I.,  to  Ezekiel 
Grosse,  gent. ,  attorney-at-law,  who  made  it  his  dwelling,  and  in  this 
place  got  a  great  estate  by  the  inferior  practice  of  the  law  ;  but  much 
more,  as  tradition  saith,  by  means  of  a  spirit  or  apparition  that 
haunted  him  in  this  place,  till  he  spake  to  it  (for  it  is  notable  that  sort 
of  things  called  apparitions  are  such  proud  gentry,  that  they  never 
speak  first) ;  whereupon  it  discovered  to  him  where  much  treasure  lay 
hid  in  this  mansion,  which,  according  to  the  (honest)  ghost's  direction, 
he  found,  to  his  great  enriching.  After  which,  this  phantasm  or 
spectrum  became  so  troublesome  and  direful  to  him,  day  and  night, 
that  it  forced  him  to  forsake  this  place  (as  rich,  it  seems,  as  this  devil 
could  make  him),  and  to  quit  his  claim  thereto,  by  giving  or  selling  it 
to  his  clerk,  John  Call ;  whose  son,  John  Call,  gent. ,  sold  it  again  to 
Robert  Hooker,  gent.,  attorney-at-law,  now  in  possession  thereof. 
The  arms  of  Call  were,  in  a  field  three  trumpets — in  allusion  to  the 
name  in  English;  but  in  Cornish -British,  'call,'  'cal,'  signifies  any 
hard,  flinty,  or  obdurate  matter  or  thing,  and  'hirgorue'  is  a  trumpet." 


THE  LADY  WITH  THE  LANTERN.^ 

The  night  was  dark  and  the  wind  high.  The  heavy  waves 
rolled  round  the  point  of  "  the  Island  "  into  St.  Ives  Bay, 
as  Atlantic  waves  only  can  roll.  Everything  bespoke  a 
storm  of  no  ordinary  character.  There  were  no  ships  in 
the  bay — not  a  fishing-boat  was  afloat  The  few  small 
trading  vessels  had  run  into  Hayle  for  shelter,  or  had 
nestled  themselves  within  that  very  unquiet  resting-place, 
St.  Ives  pier.  The  fishing-boats  were  all  high  and  dry  on 
the  sands. 

Moving  over  the  rocks  which  run  out  into  the  sea  from 
the  eastern  side  of  "  the  Island "  was  seen  a  light.  It 
passed  over  the  most  rugged  ridges,  formed  by  the  intrusive 
Greenstone  masses,  and  over  the  sharp  edges  of  the 
upturned  slate-rocks,  with  apparent  ease.  Forth  and  back 
— to  and  from — wandered  the  light. 

"  Ha  !  "  said  an  old  sailor  with  a  sigh,  as  he  looked  out 
over  the  sea ;  "  a  sad  night !  a  sad  night !  The  Lady  and 
the  Lantern  is  out." 

"  The  Lady  and  the  lantern,"  repeated  1 ;  "  what  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

"  The  light  out  yonder " 

"  Is  from  the  lantern  of  some  fisherman  looking  for 
something  he  has  lost,"  interrupted  I. 

"Never  a  fisherman  nor  a  'salt'  either  would  venture 
there  to-night,"  said  the  sailor. 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?  "  I  curiously  inquired. 

^  Robert  Hunt,  Popular  Romances  of  the  West  of  England,  2nd  series, 
p.  143- 


232  ENGLISH  FOLK 

"  Ha'ast  never  heard  of  the  Lady  and  the  Lantern  ? " 
asked  a  woman  who  was  standing  by. 

"Never." 

Without  any  preface,  she  began  at  once  to  enh'ghten  me. 
I  am  compelled,  however,  to  reduce  her  rambling  story  to 
something  like  order,  and  to  make  her  long-drawn  tale  as 
concise  as  possible. 

In  the  year there  were  many  wrecks  around  the 

coast  It  was  a  melancholy  time.  For  more  than  a  month 
there  had  been  a  succession  of  storms,  each  one  more 
severe  than  the  preceding  one.  At  length,  one  evening, 
just  about  dusk,  a  large  ship  came  suddenly  out  of  the  mist. 
Her  position,  it  was  at  once  discovered,  equally  by  those  on 
board  and  by  the  people  on  the  shore,  was  perilous  beyond 
hope.  The  sailors,  as  soon  as  they  saw  how  near  they 
were  to  the  shore,  made  every  effort  to  save  the  ship,  and 
then  to  prepare  for  saving  themselves.  The  tempest  raged 
with  such  fury  from  the  west  that  the  ship  parted  her 
anchors  at  the  moment  her  strain  came  upon  them,  and  she 
swung  round — her  only  sail  flying  into  ribbons  in  the  gale 
— rushing,  as  it  were,  eagerly  upon  her  fate.  Presently  she 
struck  violently  upon  a  sunken  rock,  and  her  masts  went  by 
the  board,  the  waves  sweeping  over  her,  and  clearing  her 
decks.  Many  perished  at  once,  and,  as  each  successive 
wave  urged  her  onward,  others  of  the  hardy  and  daring 
seamen  were  swept  into  the  angry  sea. 

Notwithstanding  the  severity  of  the  storm,  a  boat  was 
manned  by  the  St.  Ives  fishermen,  and  launched  from 
within  the  pier.  Their  perfect  knowledge  of  their  work 
enabled  them,  by  the  efforts  of  willing  hearts,  anxiously 
desiring  to  succour  the  distressed,  to  round  the  pier-head, 
and  to  row  towards  the  ship. 

These  fishermen  brought  their  boat  near  to  the  ship.     It 


AND  FAIRY  TALES,  233 

was  impossible  to  get  close  to  her,  and  they  called  to  the 
sailors  on  board  to  throw  them  ropes.  This  they  were 
enabled  to  do,  and  some  two  or  three  of  the  sailors  lowered 
themselves  by  their  aid,  and  were  hauled  into  the  boat. 

Then  a  group  appeared  on  the  deck,  surrounding  and 
supporting  a  lady,  who  held  a  child  in  her  arms.  They 
were  imploring  her  to  give  her  charge  into  the  strong  arms 
of  a  man  ere  they  endeavoured  to  pass  her  from  the  ship  to 
the  boat. 

The  lady  could  not  be  prevailed  on  to  part  with  the 
infant.  The  ship  was  fast  breaking  up,  not  a  moment  could 
be  lost.  So  the  lady,  holding  her  child,  was  lowered  into 
the  sea,  and  eagerly  the  fishermen  drew  her  through  the 
waves  towards  the  boat. 

In  her  passage  the  lady  had  fainted,  and  she  was  taken 
into  the  boat  without  the  infant.  The  child  had  fallen  from 
her  arms,  and  was  lost  in  the  boiling  waters. 

Many  of  the  crew  were  saved  by  these  adventurous  men, 
and  taken  safely  into  St.  Ives.  Before  morning  the  shore 
was  strewed  with  fragments  of  wreck,  and  the  mighty  ship 
had  disappeared. 

Life  returned  to  the  lady ;  but,  finding  that  her  child  was 
gone,  it  returned  without  hope,  and  she  speedily  closed  her 
eyes  in  death.  In  the  churchyard  they  buried  her;  but, 
shortly  after  her  burial,  a  lady  was  seen  to  pass  over  the 
wall  of  the  churchyard,  on  to  the  beach,  and  walk  towards 
the  Island.  There  she  spent  hours  amidst  the  rocks, 
looking  for  her  child,  and,  not  finding  it,  she  would  sigh 
deeply  and  return  to  her  grave.  When  the  nights  were 
tempestuous  or  very  dark,  she  carried  a  lantern ;  but  on 
fine  nights  she  made  her  search  without  a  light  The  I^dy 
and  the  Lantern  have  ever  been  regarded  as  predictors  of 
disaster  on  this  shore. 


SPECTRE-D0GS.1 

Neither  Brand  in  his  Popular  Antiquities^  nor  Sir  Walter 
Scott  in  his  Witchcraft  and  Demonology,  mentions  spectre- 
dogs  as  a  peculiar  class  of  apparitions,  yet  they  seem  to 
occupy  a  distinct  branch  of  English  mythology.  They  are 
supposed  to  exist  in  one  form  or  another  in  almost  every 
county,  and  few  kinds  of  superstition  have  more  strongly 
influenced  the  credulous  mind.  To  have  the  "  black  dog 
on  the  back  "  has  become  a  general  phrase,  though  perhaps 
few  who  use  it  have  an  idea  of  its  origin.  The  following 
anecdotes  about  spectre-dogs  will  illustrate  this  phrase,  and 
show  how  generally  this  branch  of  superstition  is  received. 

According  to  popular  psychology,  the  subject  may  be 
divided  into  three  parts :  i.  Black  dogs,  which  are  really 
fiends  that  have  assumed  the  form  of  dogs.  2.  The  spirits 
of  evil  persons,  who,  as  part  of  their  punishment,  have  been 
transformed  into  the  appearance  of  dogs.  3.  Evil  spirits, 
that,  to  mimic  the  sports  of  men,  or  to  hunt  their  souls,  have 
assumed  the  form  and  habits  of  hounds.  We  will  begin 
with  the  black  dog  apparition. 

In  almost  every  county  there  is  a  popular  belief  in  a 
spectral  dog,  which,  although  slightly  varying  in  appearance 
in  different  parts,  always  bears  the  same  general  character- 
istics. It  is  described  as  large,  shaggy,  and  black,  with 
long  ears  and  tail.  It  does  not  belong  to  any  species  of 
living  dogs,  but  is  severally  said  to  resemble  a  hound,  a 

^  Chambers's  Book  0/  Davs,  vol.  iL  p.  433. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.     235 

setter,  a  terrier,  or  a  shepherd-dog,  though  often  larger  than 
a  Newfoundland.  It  bears  different  names,  but  is  always 
alike  supposed  to  be  an  evil  spirit,  haunting  places  where 
evil  deeds  have  been  done,  or  where  some  calamity  may  be 
expected.  In  the  Isle  of  Man  it  is  called  the  Mauthe  Doog^ 
and,  according  to  tradition,  was  accustomed  to  haunt  Peel 
Castle,  where  it  was  seen  in  every  room,  but  especially  in 
the  guard-chamber.  Here,  as  soon  as  candles  were  lighted, 
it  used  to  go  and  lie  down  before  the  fire,  in  presence  of 
the  soldiers,  who  became  so  accustomed  to  its  appearance, 
that  they  lost  much  of  the  awe  which  they  first  felt  at  its 
presence.  But  knowing  its  malicious  character,  they  never 
ventured  to  molest  it,  till  one  of  them,  in  a  drunken  fit, 
swore  that  "  he  would  try  whether  it  were  dog  or  devil ! " 
He  made  his  trial,  and  was  instantly  sobered,  but  rendered 
speechless.  He  lived  only  three  days  afterwards,  and  then 
"  died  in  agonies  more  than  is  common  in  a  natural  death." 
"  I  heard  this  attested,"  says  Mr.  Waldron,  "by  several,  but 
especially  by  an  old  soldier,  who  assured  me  he  had  seen  it 
oftener  than  he  had  then  hairs  on  his  head."  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  in  his  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel^  thus  alludes  to  this 
tradition  : 

"  For  he  was  speechless,  ghastly,  wan, 
Like  him,  of  whom  the  story  ran, 
Who  spoke  the  spectre-hound  in  Man." 

A  similar  story  is  related  of  a  man  who  lived  at  a  village 
near  Aylesbury,  in  Buckinghamshire.  This  man  was 
accustomed  to  go  every  morning  and  night  to  milk  his  cows 
in  a  field,  which  was  some  distance  from  the  village.  To 
shorten  his  walk,  he  often  crossed  over  a  neighbour's  field, 
and  passed  through  a  gap  in  the  hedge ;  but  one  night,  on 
approaching  the  gap,  he  found  it  occupied  by  a  large,  black, 


236  ENGLISH  FOLK 

fierce-looking  dog.  He  paused  to  examine  the  animal,  and 
as  he  looked  at  him  his  fiery  eyes  grew  larger  and  fiercer, 
and  he  had  altogether  such  a  fiend-like  and  "  unkid " 
appearance,  that  he  doubted  whether  he  were  "a  dog  or 
the  bad  spirit"  Whichever  he  was,  he  thought  he  would 
be  no  pleasant  antagonist  to  encounter.  So  he  turned  aside, 
and  passed  through  a  gate  at  the  end  of  the  field.  Night 
after  night  he  found  the  same  dog  in  the  gap,  and  turned 
aside  in  the  same  manner.  One  night,  having  fallen  in 
with  a  companion,  he  returned  homeward  with  him  across 
his  neighbour's  field,  being  determined,  if  he  found  the  dog 
in  the  gap,  to  make  an  attack  upon  him,  and  drive  him 
away.  On  reaching  the  gap  there  stood  the  dog  looking 
even  fiercer  and  bigger  than  ever.  But  the  milkman,  wish- 
ing to  appear  valiant  before  his  companion,  put  down  his 
milk-pails,  which  were  suspended  from  a  yoke  across  his 
shoulders,  and  attempting  to  speak  very  bravely,  thoug'a 
trembling  all  over,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Now,  you  black  fiend, 
I'll  try  what  ye're  made  of!  "  He  raised  his  yoke  in  both 
his  hands,  and  struck  at  the  dog  with  all  his  might.  The 
dog  vanished,  and  the  milkman  fell  senseless  to  the  ground 
He  was  carried  home  alive,  but  remained  speechless  and 
paralytic  to  the  end  of  his  days. 

A  certain  spot  near  the  writer's  residence  is  said  to  be 
haunted  at  midnight  by  "the  black  dog."  Once,  at  the 
awful  hour  of  midnight,  he  happened  to  pass  the  dreaded 
spot,  and,  sure  enough,  he  met  the  black  dog  apparition. 
It  was  a  light  summer's  night,  and  as  he  approached  the 
awful  apparition,  he  soon  saw  it  was  far  too  substantial  "  to 
try  what  it  was  made  of."  He  knew  it  to  be  a  fine  black 
dog,  half  Newfoundland  and  retriever,  belonging  to  a  game- 
keeper, wlio,  doubtless,  was  near  at  hand  watching  his 
master's  preserves.     It  is  no   uncommon    manoeuvre    for 


AND  FAIR  Y  TALES.  237 

poachers  and  such  characters  to  give  certain  spots  the 
reputatioii  of  being  haunted. 

In  the  adjoining  county  of  Hertford  the  same  supersti- 
tion prevails,  and  the  black  dog  apparition  is  still  a  dreaded 
bogie.  Within  the  parish  of  Tring,  but  about  three  miles 
from  the  town,  a  poor  old  woman  was,  in  1751,  drowned 
for  suspected  witchcraft.  A  chimney-sweep,  who  was  the 
principal  perpetrator  of  this  atrocious  deed,  was  hanged 
and  gibbeted  near  the  place  where  the  murder  was  effected. 
While  the  gibbet  stood,  and  long  after  it  had  disappeared, 
the  spot  was  haunted  by  a  black  dog.  The  writer  was  told 
by  the  village  schoolmaster,  who  had  been  '*  abroad,"  that 
he  himself  had  seen  this  diabolical  dog.  "  1  was  returning 
home,"  said  he,  "  late  at  night  in  a  gig  with  the  person  who 
was  driving.  When  we  came  near  the  spot  where  a  portion 
of  the  gibbet  had  lately  stood,  we  saw  on  the  bank  of  the 
roadside,  along  which  a  ditch  or  narrow  brook  runs,  a 
flame  of  fire  as  large  as  a  man's  hat.  '  What's  that  ? '  I 
exclaimed.  '  Hush ! '  said  my  companion,  all  in  a 
tremble  \  and,  suddenly  pulling  in  his  horse,  made  a  dead 
stop.  I  then  saw  an  immense  black  dog  lying  on  the  road 
just  in  front  of  our  horse,  which  also  appeared  trembling 
with  fright.  The  dog  was  the  strangest  looking  creature  I 
ever  beheld.  He  was  as  big  as  a  Newfoundland,  but  very 
gaunt,  shaggy,  with  long  ears  and  tail,  eyes  like  balls  of  fire, 
and  large,  long  teeth,  for  he  opened  his  mouth  and  seemed 
to  grin  at  us.  He  looked  more  like  a  fiend  than  a  dog,  and 
I  trembled  as  much  as  my  companion.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  dog  disappeared,  seeming  to  vanish  like  a  shadow,  or  to 
sink  into  the  earth,  and  we  drove  on  over  the  spot  where  he 
had  lain."  The  same  canine  apparition  is  occasionally  still 
witnessed  at  the  same  place  or  near  it. 

In  Norfolk,  and  in  some  pans  of  Cambridgeshire,  the 


238  ENGLISH  FOLK 

same  kind  of  apparition  is  well  known  to  the  peasantry 
by  the  name  of  "Shuck,"  the  provincial  word  for  shag. 
Here  he  is  said  chiefly  to  haunt  churchyards,  but  other  lone- 
some places  are  not  secure  from  his  visitations.  Thus  a 
dreary  lane,  in  the  parish  of  Overstrand,  is  called,  from  his 
frequent  visits  there,  Shuck's  Lane.  The  spot  on  which  he 
has  been  seen,  if  examined  soon  after  his  disappearance,  is 
found  to  be  scorched,  and  strongly  impregnated  with  the 
smell  of  brimstone ! 

In  some  districts  in  the  county  of  Lancaster,  this  spectre- 
dog  bears  the  names  of  "Trash"  and  "Skriker."  Its 
general  appearance  is  the  same  as  in  other  parts,  but  its 
habits,  and  the  object  of  its  visits,  seem  somewhat  different. 
It  does  not  haunt  particular  spots,  but  appears  to  certain 
persons  to  warn  them  of  the  speedy  death  of  some  relation 
or  intimate  friend.  Occasionally,  however,  it  gives  its 
warning,  not  by  its  appearance,  but  only  by  uttering  a 
peculiar  screech,  from  whence  it  is  called,  in  the  local 
dialect,  Skriker.  Its  name,  Trash,  is  applied  to  it  because 
the  noise  made  by  its  feet  is  supposed  to  resemble  that  of 
a  person  walking  with  heavy  shoes  along  a  miry,  sloppy 
road.  If  followed,  it  retreats,  but  always  with  its  eyes  front- 
ing the  pursuer,  and  either  sinks  into  the  earth  with  a 
frightful  shriek,  or,  if  the  pursuer  averts  his  eyes  from  it  for 
a  moment,  it  disappears  he  knows  not  how.  If  struck  at 
with  a  stick  or  weapon,  it  keeps  its  ground,  but,  to  the 
horror  of  the  striker,  his  weapon  passes  as  harmlessly 
through  it  as  if  it  were  a  mere  shadow. ^ 

Lyme-Regis,  in  Dorsetshire,  has  a  famous  story  about  one 

of  these  canine  apparitions.     About  a  mile  from  the  town 

stands  a  farmhouse,  which  once   formed   part  of  an   old 

mansion  that  was  demolished  in  the  parliamentary  wars, 

^  Notes  and  Qturus. 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  «39 

except  the  small  portion  still  existing.  The  sitting-room 
now  used  by  the  farmer,  and  also  by  his  predecessors  for 
a  century  or  two,  retains  the  large  old-fashioned  fireplace, 
with  a  fixed  seat  on  each  side  under  the  capacious  chimney. 
Many  years  ago,  when  the  then  master  of  the  house,  as  his 
custom  was  after  the  daily  toils  were  over,  used  to  settle 
himself  on  one  of  these  snug  seats  in  the  chimney  corner,  a 
large  black  dog  as  regularly  took  possession  of  the  opposite 
one.  This  dog  in  all  essentials  resembled  the  spectre-dog 
already  described.  For  many  nights,  weeks,  and  months 
this  mysterious  visitor,  sitting  vis-a-vis  to  the  farmer,  cast 
a  gloom  over  his  evening  enjoyment.  At  length,  as  he 
received  no  harm  from  his  companion,  and  became 
accustomed  to  his  appearance,  he  began  to  look  on  him  as 
one  of  the  family  circle.  His  neighbours,  however,  often 
advised  him  to  drive  away  the  fiend-like  intruder ;  but  the 
farmer,  not  relishing  a  contest  with  him,  jestingly  replied : 
"  Why  should  I  ?  He  costs  me  nothing — he  eats  nothing, 
he  drinks  nothing,  he  interferes  with  no  one.  He  is  the 
quietest  and  frugalest  creature  in  the  house." 

One  night,  however,  the  farmer,  having  been  drinking  too 
freely  with  a  neighbour,  and  excited  by  his  taunts  about  the 
black  dog  to  an  unusual  degree  of  irritation,  was  determined 
his  courage  should  no  more  be  called  in  question.  Return- 
ing home  in  a  rage,  he  no  sooner  saw  the  dog  on  his  usual 
seat,  than,  seizing  the  poker,  he  rushed  with  it  towards  his 
mysterious  companion.  The  dog,  perceiving  his  intention, 
sprang  from  its  seat,  and  ran  upstairs,  followed  by  the 
infuriated  farmer.  The  dog  fled  into  an  attic  at  the  top  of 
the  house,  and  just  as  the  farmer  entered  the  same  room,  he 
saw  it  spring  from  the  floor,  and  disappear  through  the 
ceiling.  Enraged  at  being  thus  foiled,  he  struck  with  the 
poker  the  ceiling  where  the  dog  had  passed  through,  and 


240  ENGLISH  FOLK 

down  fell  a  small  old-fashioned  box,  which,  on  being 
opened,  was  found  to  contain  a  large  sum  in  gold  and  silver 
coins  of  Charles  I.'s  reign.  The  dog  was  never  more  seen 
within  doors,  but  to  the  present  day  continues  at  midnight 
to  haunt  a  lane  which  leads  to  this  house,  and  which  has 
long  borne  the  name  of  "  Dog  Lane,"  while  a  small  inn  by 
the  roadside  still  invites  the  passing  stranger  by  the  ominous 
sign  of  "The  Black  Dog,"  portrayed  in  all  his  spectral 
frightfulness.  So  late  as  the  year  1856,  a  respectable 
intelligent  woman  told  the  writer  that  she  herself  had  seen 
the  dog-ghost.  "  As  I  was  returning  to  Lyme,"  said  she, 
"one  night  with  my  husband  down  Dog  Lane,  as  we 
reached  about  the  middle  of  it,  I  saw  an  animal  about  the 
size  of  a  dog  meeting  us.  '  What's  that  ? '  I  said  to  my 
husband.  '  AVhat  ? '  said  he,  '  I  see  nothing.'  I  was  so 
frightened  1  could  say  no  more  then,  for  the  animal  was 
within  two  or  three  yards  of  us,  and  had  become  as  large  as 
a  young  calf,  but  had  the  appearance  of  a  black  shaggy  dog 
with  fiery  eyes,  just  hke  the  description  I  had  heard  of  the 
'black  dog.'  He  passed  close  by  me,  and  made  the  air 
cold  and  dank  as  he  passed  along.  Though  I  was 
afraid  to  speak,  I  could  not  help  turning  round  to 
look  after  him,  and  I  saw  him  growing  bigger  and 
bigger  as  he  went  along,  till  he  was  as  high  as  the  trees 
by  the  roadside,  and  then  seeming  to  swell  into  a  large 
cloud,  he  vanished  in  the  air.  As  soon  as  I  could  speak,  I 
asked  my  husband  to  look  at  his  watch,  and  it  was  then  five 
minutes  past  twelve.  My  husband  said  he  saw  nothing  but 
a  vapour  or  fog  coming  up  from  the  sea."  A"  case  of  this 
kind  shows  how  even  a  sensible  person  may  become  the 
victim  of  self-delusion  J  for  in  all  practical  matters  this 
woman  was  remarkably  sober-minded,  intelligent,  and 
iudicious ;  and  well  educated  for  a  person  of  her  calling — 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  »4i 

that  of  sick-nurse,  the  duties  of  which  she  discharged  in  the 
writer's  house  for.  several  weeks  to  his  fullest  satisfaction, 
showing  no  symptoms  of  nervousness  or  timidity. 

The  foregoing  examples  belong  to  the  class  of  fiends  who 
have  assumed  the  appearance  of  dogs.  We  will  now  give  a 
few  instances  of  human  spirits  that,  as  a  punishment,  have 
been  transformed  into  similar  apparitions. 

Lady  Howard,  a  Devonshire  notable  of  the  time  of 
James  I.,  was  remarkable  for  her  beauty,  her  wealth,  her 
talents,  and  accomplishments.  But  she  had  many  bad 
qualities.  Amongst  others,  she  was  unnaturally  cruel  to 
her  only  daughter,  and  had  a  sad  knack  of  getting  rid  of 
her  husbands,  having  been  married  no  less  than  four  times. 
At  last  she  died  herself,  and,  for  her  misdemeanours  while 
living,  her  spirit  was  transformed  into  a  hound,  and  com- 
pelled to  run  every  night,  between  midnight  and  cock- 
crowing,  from  the  gateway  of  Fitz-ford,  her  former  residence, 
to  Oakhampton  Park,  and  bring  back  to  the  place  from 
whence  she  started  a  single  blade  of  grass  in  her  mouth; 
and  this  penance  she  is  doomed  to  continue  till  every  blade 
of  grass  is  removed  from  the  park,  which  she  will  not  be 
able  to  effect  till  the  end  of  the  world.  How  these  particu- 
lars were  communicated  to  our  fellow-living  mortals  we  are 
not  informed,  and  we  dare  not  venture  a  conjecture.  Our 
rustic  psychologists  have  been  rather  more  explicit  in  the 
following  story : — 

There  once  lived  in  the  hamlet  of  Dean  Combe,  Devon, 
a  weaver  of  great  fame  and  skill  After  long  prosperity  he 
died  and  was  buried  But  the  next  day  he  appeared  sitting 
at  the  loom  in  his  chamber,  working  as  diligently  as  when 
he  was  alive.  His  sons  applied  to  the  vicar,  who  accord- 
ingly went  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  heard  the  noise  of 
the  weaver's  shuttle  in  the  room  above.     "Knowles,"  he 


242  ENGLISH  FOLK 

cried,  "come  down  ;  this  is  no  place  for  thee."  "  I  will," 
replied  the  weaver,  "  as  soon  as  I  have  worked  out  my 
quill"  (the  quill  is  the  shuttle  full  of  wool).  "Nay,"  said 
the  vicar,  "thou  hast  been  long  enough  at  thy  work;  come 
down  at  once."  So  when  the  spirit  came  down  the  vicar 
took  a  handful  of  earth  from  the  churchyard  and  threw  it  in 
its  face.  And  in  a  moment  it  became  a  black  hound. 
"  Follow  me,"  said  the  vicar,  and  it  followed  him  to  the 
gate  of  the  wood.  And  when  they  came  there,  "  it  seemed 
as  if  all  the  trees  'vn.  the  wood  were  coming  together,  so 
great  was  the  wind.*'  Then  the  vicar  took  a  nutshell  with 
a  hole  in  it,  and  led  the  hound  to  the  pool  below  the  water- 
fall. "Take  this  shell,"  said  he,  "and  when  thou  shalt 
have  dipped  out  the  pool  with  it,  thou  mayest  rest — not 
before  ! "  And  at  midday  and  at  midnight  the  hound  may 
still  be  seen  at  its  work.^  It  is  difficult  to  understand  why 
the  industrious  weaver  was  consigned  to  such  a  hopeless 
doom.  Many  spectral  dogs,  believed  to  be  the  souls  of 
wicked  persons,  are  said  to  haunt  the  sides  of  rivers  and 
pools,  and  sometimes  their  yelping  is  so  dreadful,  that  all 
who  hear  thera  lose  their  senses.^ 

Besides  such  apparitions  of  solitary  dogs,  whole  packs  of 
spectral  hounds  are  said  to  be  occasionally  heard  and  seen 
in  full  cry  in  various  parts  of  England  and  Wales,  but 
chiefly  in  mountainous  districts.  They  are  everywhere 
described  much  in  the  same  way,  but  with  different  names. 
In  the  north  they  are  called  "Gabriel's  Hounds;"  in 
Devon,  the  "Wisk,"  "Yesk,"  or  "Heath  Hounds;"  in 
Wales,  "Cwn  Annwn,"  or  "Cwn  Wybir;"  and  in  Corn- 
wall, the  "  Devil  and  his  Dandy-dogs."  But  few  have  ever 
imagined  that  they  have  seen  these  hounds,  though  popular 

^  Notes  and  Queries ^  vol.  ii.  p.  515. 
*  2bid.t  vol.  i.  p.  295. 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  243 

superstition  has  described  them  as  black,  with  fiery  eyes 
and  teeth,  and  sprinkled  all  over  with  blood.  Generally, 
they  are  only  heard,  and  seem  to  be  passing  swiftly  along  in 
the  air,  as  if  in  hot  pursuit  of  their  prey ;  and  though  not 
very  high  up,  yet  they  cannot  be  seen,  because  they 
generally  choose  cloudy  nights.  Their  yelping  is  said  to 
be  sometimes  as  loud  as  the  note  of  a  bloodhound,  but 
sharper  and  more  terrific.  Why  they  have  anywhere 
received  the  name  of  Gabriel's  hounds  appears  unaccount- 
able, for  they  are  always  supposed  to  be  evil  spirits  hunting 
the  souls  of  the  dead,  or,  by  their  diabolical  yelping,  to 
betoken  the  speedy  death  of  some  person.  Thus  Mr. 
Holland,  of  Sheffield,  describes  in  the  following  sonnet  the 
superstition  as  held  in  Yorkshire : — 

'  *  Oft  have  I  heard  my  honoured  mother  say 
How  she  hath  listened  to  the  Gabriel  Hounds ; 
Those  strange  unearthly  and  mysterious  sounds 
Which  on  the  ear  through  murkiest  darkness  fell ; 
And  how,  entranced  by  superstitious  spell, 
The  trembling  villager  not  seldom  heard, 
In  the  quaint  notes  of  the  nocturnal  bird 
Of  death  premonished,  some  sick  neighbour's  knell. 
I,  too,  remember  once,  at  midnight  dark, 
How  these  sky-yelpers  startled  me,  and  stirred 
My  fancy  so,  I  could  have  then  averred 
A  mimic  pack  of  beagles  low  did  bark  ! 
Nor  wondered  I  that  rustic  fear  should  trace 
A  spectral  huntsman  doomed  to  that  long  moonless  chase." 

Wordsworth,  alluding  to  another  form  of  this  superstition, 
similar  to  the  German  story  of  the  Wild  Huntsman,  thus 

writes  : — 

"  He  oftentimes  will  start, 
For  overhead  are  sweeping  Gabriel's  Hounds, 

Doomed,  with  their  impious  lord,  the  flying  hart 
To  chase  for  ever  through  aerial  grounds. " 


244     ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

Many  wild  and  amusing  stories  are  told  respecting  these 
aerial  hounds,  especially  in  the  secluded  districts  of  Devon 
and  Cornwall.  The  following  is  a  specimen  : — A  herdsman 
was  journeying  homeward  across  the  moors  of  Cornwall  one 
windy  night  when  he  heard  at  a  distance  the  baying  of 
hounds,  which  he  was  not  long  in  recognising  to  be  the 
dismal  yelp  of  the  Devil's  Dandy-dogs.  He  was  three  or 
four  miles  distant  from  his  home ;  and,  much  terrified,  he 
hurried  onward  as  fast  as  the  treacherous  nature  of  the  soil 
and  uncertainty  of  the  path  would  allow ;  but  the  melan- 
choly yelping  of  the  hounds  and  the  fiendish  shout  of  the 
hunter  came  nearer  and  nearer.  After  a  long  run  they 
appeared  so  close  upon  him  that  he  could  not  help  turning 
round  to  look  at  them.  He  was  horror-struck,  for  he  could 
distinctly  see  the  hunter  and  his  dogs.  The  huntsman  was 
terrible  to  behold.  He  was  black,  had  large  fiery  eyes, 
horns,  a  tail,  and  carried  in  his  clawy-hand  a  long  hunting- 
pole.  The  dogs,  a  numerous  pack,  blackened  the  ground 
as  far  as  it  could  be  seen,  each  snorting  fire  and  yelping  in 
the  most  frightful  tone.  What  was  the  poor  rustic  to  do  ? 
No  cottage  was  near,  no  rock,  no  tree  to  shelter  him — 
nothing  remained  but  to  abandon  himself  to  the  fury  of 
these  hell-hounds.  Suddenly  a  happy  thought  flashed  into 
his  mind.  He  had  been  told  that  no  evil  spirit  can  resist 
the  power  of  prayer.  He  fell  on  his  knees,  and  at  the  first 
holy  words  he  uttered  the  hounds  stood  still,  but  yelped 
more  dismally  than  ever ;  and  the  huntsman  shouted,  *'  Bo 
Shrove  ! "  which  "  means,"  says  the  narrator,  "  in  the  old 
language,  T^e  boy  prays  P^  The  black  huntsman  then 
drew  off  his  dandy-dogs,  and  the  poor  herdsman  hastened 
home  as  fast  as  his  trembling  frame  permitted.^ 
^  Notes  and  Queries, 


BILLY  B 'S  ADVENTURE.* 

"  You  see,  sir,  as  how  I'd  been  a  clock-dressing  at  Gur- 
ston  (Grassington),  and  I'd  staid  rather  lat,  and  maybe  git- 
ten  a  li'le  sup  o'  spirit;  but  I  war  far  from  being  drunk, 
and  knowed  everything  that  passed.  It  war  about  eleven 
o'clock  when  I  left,  and  it  war  at  back  end  o'  t'  year,  and  a 
most  admirable  (beautiful)  neet  it  war.  The  moon  war 
varra  breet,  and  I  nivver  seed  Kylstone-fell  plainer  in  a'  my 
life.  Now,  you  see,  sir,  I  war  passin'  down  t'  mill  loine,  and 
I  heerd  summut  come  past  me — brush,  brush,  brush,  wi' 
chains  rattUng  a'  the  while,  but  I  seed  nothing ;  and  thowt 
I  to  mysel,  now  this  is  a  most  mortal  queer  thing.  And  I 
then  stuid  still,  and  luik'd  about  me ;  but  I  seed  nothing  at 
aw,  nobbut  the  two  stane  wa's  on  each  o'  t*  mill  loine.  Then 
I  heerd  again  this  brush,  brush,  brush,  wi'  the  chains ;  for 
you  see,  sir,  when  I  stuid  still  it  stopped,  and  then,  thowt  I, 
this  mun  be  a  Bargest,  that  sae  much  is  said  about ;  and  I 
hurried  on  towards  t'  wood  brig ;  for  they  say  as  how  this 
Bargest  cannot  cross  a  watter;  but  Lord,  sir,  when  I  gat 
o'er  t'  brig,  I  heerd  this  same  thing  again  ;  so  it  mud  either 
hev  crossed  t'  watter,  or  have  gam  round  by  /'  spring  heed 
(about  thirty  miles) !  And  then  I  becam  a  valliant  man, 
for  I  war  a  bit  freekn'd  afore :  and,  thinks  I,  I'll  turn  and 
hev  a  peep  at  this  thing ;  so  I  went  up  Greet  Bank  toward? 
Linton,  and  heerd  this  brush,  brush,  brush,  wi'  the  chains  a* 

^  Robert  Hunt,  Popular  Romances  of  the  West  of  England^  1st  series, 
p.  315,  quoting  from  Hone's  Every-day  Book. 

18 


246     ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

the  way,  but  I  seed  nothing;  then  it  ceased  all  of  a  sudden. 
So  I  turned  back  to  go  hame ;  but  I'd  hardly  reached  the 
door  when  I  heerd  again  this  brush,  brush,  brush,  and  the 
chains,  going  down  towards  t'  Holin  House ;  and  I  followed 
it,  and  the  moon  there  shone  varra  breet,  and  I  seed  its  tail! 
Then,  thowt  I,  thou  owd  thing,  I  can  say  Ise  seen  thee 
now ;  so  I'll  away  hame.  When  I  gat  to  t'  door,  there  war 
a  grit  thing  like  a  sheep,  but  it  war  larger,  ligging  across 
t'  threshold  of  t'  door,  and  it  war  woolly  like ;  and  says  1 . 
' Git  up,'  and  it  wouldn't  git  up.  Then  says  I:  '  Stir  thysel,' 
and  it  wouldn't  stir  itsel !  And  I  grew  vaUiant,  and  I  raised 
t'  stick  to  baste  it  wi' ;  and  then  it  luik'd  at  me,  and  sich 
oies  (eyes)  they  did  glower,  and  war  as  big  as  saucers,  and 
like  a  cruelled  ball.  First  there  war  a  red  ring,  then  a  blue 
one,  then  a  white  one;  and  these  rings  grew  less  and  less 
till  they  came  to  a  dot  I  Now,  I  war  nane  feer'd  on  it,  tho' 
it  grin'd  at  me  fearfully,  and  I  kept  on  saying  '  Git  up,'  and 
'  Stir  thysel,'  and  t'  wife  heerd  as  how  I  war  at  t'  door,  and 
she  cam  to  oppen  it ;  and  then  this  thing  gat  up  and  walked 
off,  for  it  war  mare  freefd  d  f  wife  than  it  war  d  me  ;  and 
I  told  the  wife,  and  she  said  it  war  Bargest;  but  I  niwer 
seed  it  since — and  that's  a  true  story." 


DROLLS. 


DROLLS. 


THE  WISE  FOOLS  OF  GOTHAM.^ 

Cuckoo  Bush,  near  Gotham,  tradition  says,  was  planted 
or  set  to  commemorate  a  trick  which  the  inhabitants  of 
Gotham  put  upon  King  John.  The  tale  is  told  thus: — 
King  John,  passing  through  this  place  towards  Nottingham, 
intending  to  go  over  the  meadows,  was  prevented  by  the 
villagers,  they  apprehending  that  the  ground  over  which  a 
king  passed  was  for  ever  after  to  become  a  public  road. 
The  king,  incensed  at  their  proceedings,  sent  from  his 
court  soon  after  some  of  his  servants,  to  inquire  of  them  the 
reason  of  their  incivility  and  ill-treatment,  that  he  might 
punish  them  by  way  of  fine,  or  some  other  way  he  might 
judge  most  proper.  The  villagers,  hearing  of  the  approach 
of  the  king's  servants,  thought  of  an  expedient  to  turn 
away  his  Majesty's  displeasure  from  them.  When  the 
messengers  arrived  at  Gotham,  they  found  some  of  the 
inhabitants  engaged  in  endeavouring  to  drown  an  eel  in  a 
pool  of  water  ;  some  were  employed  in  dragging  carts  upon 
a  large  bam,  to  shade  the  wood  from  the  sun ;  others  were 
tumbling  their  cheeses  down  a  hill,  that  they  might  find 
their  way  to  Nottingham  for  sale ;  and  some  were  employed 

^  Blount's  Tenures  of  Land,  edited  by  W.  Carew  Uaziitt,  p.  133. 
London,  1874- 


250    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

in  hedging  in  a  cuckoo  which  had  perched  upon  an  old 
bush  which  stood  where  the  present  one  now  stands;  in 
short,  they  were  all  employed  in  some  foolish  w^ay  or  other, 
which  convinced  the  king's  servants  that  it  was  a  village  of 
fools,  whence  arose  the  old  adage,  •'  The  wise  men,"  or, 
"The  fools  of  Gotham." 
The  words  of  an  humble  poet  may  be  here  applicable : — 

' '  Tell  me  no  more  of  Gotham  fools. 
Or  of  their  eels  in  little  pools, 

Which  they  were  told  were  drowning ; 
Nor  of  their  cans  drawn  up  on  high, 
When  King  John's  men  were  standing  by, 
To  keep  a  wood  from  browning. 

"  Nor  of  their  cheese  shoved  down  the  hill. 
Nor  of  a  cuckoo  sitting  still, 

>\Tule  it  they  hedgM  round ; 
Such  tales  of  them  have  long  been  told, 
By  prating  boobies,  young  and  old. 

In  drunken  circles  crowned. 

"  The  fools  are  those  who  thither  go 
To  see  the  cuckoo  bush,  I  trow. 

The  wood,  the  barn,  and  pools ; 
For  such  are  seen  both  here  and  there^ 
And  passed  by  without  a  sneer 

By  all  but  errant  fools." 


THE  THREE  WISHES.^ 

A  WOODMAN  went  to  the  forest  to  fell  some  timber.  Just  aS 
he  was  applying  the  axe  to  the  trunk  of  a  huge  old  oak  out 
jumped  a  fairy,  who  beseeched  him  with  the  most  suppli- 
cating gestures  to  spare  the  tree.  Moved  more  by  fright 
and  astonishment  than  anything  else,  the  man  consented, 
and  as  a  reward  for  his  forbearance  was  promised  the 
fulfilment  of  his  three  next  wishes.  Whether  from  natural 
forgetfulness  or  fairy  illusion  we  know  not,  but  certain  it 
is,  that  long  before  evening  all  remembrance  of  his  visitor 
passed  from  his  noddle.  At  night,  when  he  and  his  dame 
were  dozing  before  a  blazing  fire,  the  old  fellow  waxed 
hungry,  and  audibly  wished  for  a  link  of  hog's  pudding. 
No  sooner  had  the  words  escaped  his  lips  than  a  rustling 
was  heard  in  the  chimney,  and  down  came  a  bunch  of  the 
wished-for  delicacies,  depositing  themselves  at  the  feet  of 
the  astounded  woodman,  who,  thus  reminded  of  his 
morning  visitor,  began  to  communicate  the  particulars  to 
his  wife.  "Thou  bist  a  fool,  Jan,"  said  she,  incensed  at 
her  husband's  carelessness  in  neglecting  to  make  the  best 
of  his  good  luck;  "I  wish  em  wer  atte  noase!"  Where- 
upon, the  legend  goes  on  to  state,  they  immediately 
attached  themselves  to  the  member  in  question,  and  stuck 

^  T.  Sternberg,    Thi  Dialect  and  Fclk-Lore  of  Northamptonshire, 
p.  I3S. 


252     ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

so  tight  that  the  woodman,  finding  no  amount  of  force 
would  remove  these  unsightly  appendages  from  his 
proboscis,  was  obliged,  reluctantly,  to  wish  them  off, 
thus  making  the  third  wish,  and  at  once  ending  his 
brilliant  expectations. 


THE  MILLER  AT  THE  PROFESSOR'S 
EXAMINATION.! 

There  once  came  to  England  a  famous  foreign  professor, 
and  before  he  came  he  gave  notice  that  he  would  examine 
the  students  of  all  the  colleges  in  England.  After  a  time 
he  had  visited  all  but  Cambridge,  and  he  was  on  his  road 
thither  to  examine  publicly  the  whole  university.  Great 
was  the  bustle  in  Cambridge  to  prepare  for  the  reception  of 
the  professor,  and  great  also  were  the  fears  of  the  students, 
who  dreaded  the  time  when  they  must  prove  their  acquire- 
ments before  one  so  famous  for  his  learning.  As  the  period 
of  his  arrival  approached  their  fears  increased,  and  at  last 
they  determined  to  try  some  expedient  which  might  avert 
the  impending  trial,  and  for  this  purpose  several  of  the 
students  were  disguised  in  the  habits  of  common  labourers, 
and  distributed  in  groups  of  two  or  three  at  convenient 
distances  from  each  other  along  the  road  by  which  the 
professor  was  expected. 

He  had  in  his  carriage  arrived  at  the  distance  of  a  few 
miles  from  Cambridge  when  he  met  the  first  of  these  groups 
of  labourers,  and  the  coachman  drew  up  his  horses  to  in- 
quire of  them  the  distance.  The  professor  was  astonished 
to  hear  them  answer  in  Latin,  He  proceeded  on  his  way, 
and  after  driving  about  Ijalf  a  mile,  met  with  another  group 
of  labourers  at  work  on  the  road,  to  whom  a  similar  ques- 
tion was  put  by  the  coachman.     The  professor  was  still 

^  Folk-Lot  e  Record,  vol.  ii.  p.  173. 


254  ENGLISH  FOLK 

more  astonished  to  hear  them  give  answer  in  Greek-  "Ah," 
thought  he,  "  they  must  be  good  scholars  at  Cambridge, 
when  even  the  common  labourers  on  the  roads  talk  Latin 
and  GreeL  It  won't  do  to  examine  them  in  the  same  way 
as  other  people."  So  all  the  rest  of  the  way  he  was  musing 
on  the  mode  of  examination  he  should  adopt,  and  just  as 
he  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  he  came  to  the  deter- 
mination that  he  would  examine  them  by  signs.  As  soon, 
therefore,  as  he  had  alighted  from  his  carriage,  he  lost  no 
time  in  making  known  this  novel  method  of  examina- 
tion. 

Now  the  students  had  never  calculated  on  such  a  result 
as  this  from  their  stratagem,  and  they  were,  as  might  well 
be  expected,  sadly  disappointed.  There  was  one  student  in 
particular  who  had  been  studying  very  hard,  and  who  was 
expected  by  everybody  to  gain  the  prize  at  the  examination, 
and,  as  the  idlest  student  in  the  university  had  the  same 
chance  of  guessing  the  signs  of  the  professor  as  himself,  he 
was  in  very  low  spirits  about  it.  When  the  day  of  examina- 
tion arrived,  instead  of  attending  it,  he  was  walking  sadly 
and  mournfully  by  the  banks  of  the  river,  near  the  mill,  and 
it  happened  that  the  miller,  who  was  a  merry  fellow,  and 
used  to  talk  with  this  student  as  he  passed  the  mill  in  his 
walks,  saw  him,  and  asked  him  what  was  the  matter  with 
him.  Then  the  student  told  him  all  about  it,  and  how  the 
great  professor  was  going  to  examine  by  signs,  and  how  he 
was  afraid  that  he  should  not  get  through  the  examination. 
"  Oh !  if  that's  all,"  said  the  miller,  "  don't  be  low  about 
the  matter.  Did  you  never  hear  that  a  clown  may  some- 
times teach  a  scholar  wisdom  ?  Only  let  me  put  on  your 
clothes,  with  your  cap  and  gown,  and  I'll  go  to  the  examina- 
tion instead  of  you ;  and  if  I  succeed  you  shall  have  the 
credit  of  it,  and  if  I  fail  I  will  tell  them  who  I  am."    "But," 


AND  FAIR  Y  TALES,  255 

said  the  student,  '•  everybody  knows  that  I  have  but  one 
eye."  "  Never  mind  that,"  said  the  miller ;  "  I  can  easily  put 
a  black  patch  over  one  of  mine."  So  they  changed  clothes, 
and  the  miller  went  to  the  professor's  examination  in  the 
student's  cap  and  gown,  with  a  patch  on  his  eye. 

Well,  just  as  the  miller  entered  the  lecture-room,  the 
professor  had  tried  all  the  other  students,  and  nobody 
could  guess  the  meaning  of  his  signs  or  answer  his  ques- 
tions. So  the  miller  stood  up,  and  the  professor,  putting 
his  hand  in  his  coat  pocket,  drew  out  an  apple,  and  held  it 
up  towards  him.  The  miller  likewise  put  his  hand  in  his 
pocket  and  drew  out  a  crust  of  bread,  which  he  in  like 
manner  held  out  towards  the  professor.  Then  the  professor 
put  the  apple  in  his  pocket  and  pointed  at  the  miller  with 
one  finger :  the  miller  in  return  pointed  at  him  with  two : 
the  professor  pointed  with  three ;  and  the  miller  held  out 
his  clenched  fist.  "Right!"  said  the  professor;  and  he 
adjudged  the  prize  to  the  miller. 

The  miller  made  all  haste  to  communicate  these  good 
tidings  to  his  friend  the  student,  who  was  waiting  at  the 
mill;  and  the  student,  having  resumed  his  own  clothes, 
hastened  back  to  hear  the  prize  given  out  to  him.  When 
he  arrived  at  the  lecture-room  the  professor  was  on  his 
legs  explaining  to  the  assembled  students  the  meaning  of 
the  signs  which  himself  and  the  student  who  had  gained  the 
prize  made  use  of. 

"  First,"  said  he,  "  I  held  out  an  apple,  signifying  thereby 
the  fall  of  mankind  through  Adam's  sin,  and  he  very 
properly  held  up  a  piece  of  bread,  which  signified  that  by 
Christ,  the  bread  of  life,  mankind  was  regenerated.  Then 
I  held  out  one  finger,  which  meant  that  there  is  one  God 
in  the  Trinity;  he  held  out  two  fingers,  signifying  that 
there  are  two ;  I  held  out  three  fingers,  meaning  that  there 


256     ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES. 

are  three ;  and  he  held  out  his  clenched  fist,  which  was  as 
much  as  to  say  that  the  three  are  one." 

Well,  the  student  who  got  the  prize  was  sadly  puzzled  to 
think  how  the  miller  knew  all  this,  and  as  soon  as  the 
ceremony  of  publishing  the  name  of  the  successful  can- 
didate was  over  he  hastened  to  the  mill,  and  told  him  all 
the  professor  had  said.  "  Ah ! "  said  the  miller,  "  I'll  tell 
you  how  it  was.  When  I  went  in  the  professor  looked 
mighty  fierce,  and  he  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and 
fumbled  about  for  some  time,  and  at  last  he  pulled  out 
an  apple,  and  he  held  it  out  as  though  he  would  throw 
it  at  me.  Then  I  put  my  hand  in  my  pocket,  and  could 
find  nothing  but  an  old  crust  of  bread,  and  so  I  held  it 
out  in  the  same  way,  meaning  that  if  he  threw  the  apple 
at  me  I  would  throw  the  crust  at  him.  Then  he  looked 
still  more  fiercely,  and  held  out  his  one  finger,  as  much 
as  to  say  he  would  poke  my  one  eye  out,  and  I  held  two 
fingers,  meaning  that  if  he  poked  out  my  one  eye  I  would 
poke  out  his  two,  and  then  he  held  out  three  of  his  fingers, 
as  though  he  would  scratch  my  face,  and  I  clenched  my 
fist  and  shook  it  at  him,  meaning  that  if  he  did  I  would 
knock  him  down.  And  then  he  said  I  deserved  the 
prize." 


STUPID'S  MISTAKEN  CRIES.^ 

Therk  was  once  a  little  boy,  and  his  mother  sent  him  to 
buy  a  sheep's  head  and  pluck ;  afraid  he  should  forget  it, 
the  lad  kept  saying  all  the  way  along : 

"  Sheep's  head  and  pluck  ! 
Sheep's  head  and  pluck  I " 

Trudging  along,  he  came  to  a  stile;  but  in  getting  over 
he  fell  and  hurt  himself,  and,  beginning  to  blubber,  forgot 
what  he  was  sent  for.  So  he  stood  a  little  while  to  con- 
sider ;  at  last  he  thought  he  recollected  it,  and  began 
to  repeat : 

"  Liver  and  lights  and  gall  and  all  1 
Liver  and  lights  and  gall  and  all ! " 

Away  he  went  again,  and  came  to  where  a  man  was  sick, 
bawling  out : 

"  Liver  and  lights  and  gall  and  all  1 
Liver  and  lights  and  gall  and  all  I  " 

Whereon  the  man  laid  hold  of  him  and  beat  him,  bid- 
ding him  say : 

"  Pray  God  send  no  more  up  ! 
Pray  God  send  no  more  up  ! " 

The  youngster  strode  along,  uttering  these  words,  till  he 
reached  a  field  where  a  hind  was  sowing  wheat : 

^  Folk-Lore  Record,  vol.  iii.  p.  153. 


258  ENGLISH  FOLK 

"  Pray  God  send  no  more  up  ! 
Pray  God  send  no  more  up  I  " 

This  was  all  his  cry.  So  the  sower  began  to  thrash  him, 
and  charged  him  to  repeat : 

"  Pray  God  send  plenty  more  I 
Pray  God  send  plenty  more  ! " 

Off  the  child  scampered  with  these  words  in  his  mouth 
till  he  reached  a  churchyard  and  met  a  funeral,  but  he 
went  on  with  his  : 

"  Pray  God  send  plenty  more  ! 
Pray  God  send  plenty  more  1 " 

The  chief  mourner  seized  and  punished  him,  and  bade 
him  repeat : 

"  Pray  God  send  the  soul  to  heaven  S 
Pray  God  send  the  soul  to  heaven !  " 

Away  went  the  boy,  and  met  a  dog  and  a  bitcli  going  to  be 
hung,  but  his  cry  rang  out : 

"  Pray  God  send  the  soul  to  heaven  1 
Pray  God  send  the  soul  to  heaven ! " 

The  good  folk  nearly  were  furious,  seized  and  struck  him, 
charging  him  to  say : 

"  A  dog  and  a  bitch  agoing  to  be  hung  I 
A  dog  and  a  liitch  agoing  to  be  hung ! " 

This  the  pocr  fellow  did,  till  he  overtook  a  man  and  z 
v/oman  going  to  be  married.     "Oh  !  oh  !  "  he  shouted  : 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  359 

"  A  dog  and  a  bitch  agoing  to  be  hung ! 
A  dog  and  a  bitch  agoing  to  be  hung !  " 

The  man  was  enraged,  as  we  may  well  think,  gave  him 
many  a  thump,  and  ordered  him  to  repeat : 

"  I  wish  you  much  joy ! 
I  wish  you  much  joy !  " 

This  he  did,  jogging  along,  till  he  came  to  two  labourers 
who  had  fallen  into  a  ditch.     The  lad  kept  bawling  out : 

"  I  wish  you  much  joy  ! 
I  wish  you  much  joy  1" 

This  vexed  one  of  the  folk  so  sorely  that  he  used  all  his 
strength,  scrambled  out,  beat  the  crier,  and  told  him  to  say: 

"  The  one  is  out,  I  wish  the  other  was  ! 
The  one  is  out,  I  wish  the  other  was  !  " 

On  went  young  'un  till  he  found  a  fellow  with  only  one  eyej 
but  he  kept  up  his  song : 

"  The  one  is  out,  I  wish  the  other  was ! 
The  one  is  out,  I  wish  the  other  was !" 

This  was  too  much  for  Master  One-eye,  who  grabbed  him 
and  chastised  him,  bidding  him  call : 

"  The  one  side  gives  good  light,  I  wish  the  other  did  ! 
Tlie  one  side  gives  good  light,  1  wish  the  other  did  I  " 

So  he  did,  to  be  sure,  till  he  came  to  a  house,  one  side  of 
which  was  on  fire.  The  people  here  thought  it  was  he  who 
had  set  the  place  a-blozing,  and  straightway  put  him  in 
prison.  The  end  was,  the  judge  put  on  his  black  cap,  and 
condemned  him  to  die. 


THE  THREE  SILLIES.^ 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  farmer  and  his  wife  who 
had  one  daughter,  and  she  was  courted  by  a  gentleman. 
Every  evening  he  used  to  come  and  see  her,  and  stop 
to  supper  at  the  farmhouse,  and  the  daughter  used  to  be 
sent  down  into  the  cellar  to  draw  the  beer  for  supper. 
So  one  evening  she  was  gone  down  to  draw  the  beer,  and 
she  happened  to  look  up  at  the  ceiling  while  she  was 
drawing,  and  she  saw  an  axe  stuck  into  one  of  the  beams.^ 
It  must  have  been  there  a  long,  long  time,  but  somehow  or 
other  she  had  never  noticed  it  before,  and  she  began 
a-thinking.  And  she  thought  it  was  very  dangerous  to 
have  that  axe  there,  for  she  said  to  herself:  "  Suppose  him 
and  me  was  to  be  married,  and  we  was  to  have  a  son,  and 
he  was  to  grow  up  to  be  a  man,  and  come  down  into  the 
cellar  to  draw  the  beer,  like  as  I'm  doing  now,  and  the  axe 
was  to  fall  on  his  head  and  kill  him,  what  a  dreadful  thing 
it  would  be  !  "  And  she  put  down  the  candle  and  the  jug, 
and  sat  herself  down  and  began  a-crying. 

Well,  they  began  to  wonder  upstairs  how  it  was  that  she 
was  so  long  drawing  the  beer,  and  her  mother  went  down 
to  see  after  her,  and  she  found  her  sitting  on  the  setluss 

^  Folk-Lore  Journal,  vol.  ii.  p.  40. 

^  Miss  Burne,  who  collected  this  story,  informs  me  that  she  finds 
the  dangerous  tool  was,  not  an  axe,  but  "  a  great  big  wooden  mallet, 
as  some  one  had  left  sticking  there  when  they'd  been  m/tiing-up  the 
beer,"  i.e.,  stopping  up  the  barrels. 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIRY  TALES.     261 

crying,  and  the  beer  running  over  the  floor.  "  Why  what- 
ever is  the  matter  ?  "  said  her  mother.  "  Oh,  mother ! " 
says  she,  "  look  at  that  horrid  axe  !  Suppose  we  was  to  be 
married,  and  was  to  have  a  son,  and  he  was  to  grow  up,  and 
was  to  come  down  to  the  cellar  to  draw  the  beer,  and  the 
axe  was  to  fall  on  his  head  and  kill  him,  what  a  dreadful 
thing  it  would  be  ! "  "  Dear,  dear  1  what  a  dreadful  thing 
it  would  be  !  "  said  the  mother,  and  she  sat  her  down  aside 
of  the  daughter  and  started  a-crying  too.  Then  after  a 
bit  the  father  began  to  wonder  that  they  didn't  come  back, 
and  he  went  down  into  the  cellar  to  look  after  them  him- 
self, and  there  they  two  sat  a-crying,  and  the  beer  running 
all  over  the  floor.  "Whatever  is  the  matter?"  says  he. 
"  Why,"  says  the  mother,  "  look  at  that  horrid  axe.  Just 
suppose,  if  our  daughter  and  her  sweetheart  was  to  be 
married,  and  was  to  have  a  son,  and  he  was  to  grow  up, 
and  was  to  come  down  into  the  cellar  to  draw  the  beer,  and 
the  axe  was  to  fall  on  his  head  and  kill  him,  what  a  dread- 
ful thing  it  would  be !  "  "  Dear,  dear,  dear !  so  it  would  !  " 
said  the  father,  and  he  sat  himself  down  aside  of  the  other 
two,  and  started  a-crying. 

Now  the  gentleman  got  tired  of  stopping  up  in  the 
kitchen  by  himself,  and  at  last  he  went  down  into  the  cellar 
too,  to  see  what  they  were  after ;  and  there  they  three  sat 
a-crying  side  by  side,  and  the  beer  running  all  over  the 
floor.  And  he  ran  straight  and  turned  the  tap.  Then  he 
said  :  "  Whatever  are  you  three  doing,  sitting  there  crying, 
and  letting  the  beer  run  all  over  the  floor  ?  "  "  Oh  I "  says 
the  father,  "  look  at  that  horrid  axe !  Suppose  you  and 
our  daughter  was  to  be  married,  and  was  to  have  a  son,  and 
he  was  to  grow  up,  and  was  to  come  down  into  the  cellar  to 
draw  the  beer,  and  the  axe  was  to  fall  on  his  head  and  kill 
him!"      And  then  they  all   started  a-crying  worse  than 

19 


262  ENGLISH  FOLK 

before.  But  the  gentleman  burst  out  a-laughing,  and 
reached  up  and  pulled  out  the  axe,  and  then  he  said:  "  I've 
travelled  many  miles,  and  I  never  met  three  such  big  sillies 
as  you  three  before;  and  now  I  shall  start  out  on  my 
travels  again,  and  when  I  can  find  three  bigger  sillies  than 
you  three,  then  I'll  come  back  and  marry  your  daughter." 
So  he  wished  them  good-bye,  and  started  off  on  his  travels, 
and  left  them  all  crying  because  the  girl  had  lost  her 
sweetheart 

Well,  he  set  out,  and  he  travelled  a  long  way,  and  at  last 
he  came  to  an  old  woman's  cottage  that  had  some  grass 
growing  on  the  roof.  And  the  old  woman  was  trying  to 
get  her  cow  to  go  up  a  ladder  to  the  grass,  and  the  poor 
thing  durst  not  go.  So  the  gentleman  asked  the  old  woman 
what  she  was  doing.  "Why,  lookye,"  she  said,  "look  at 
all  that  beautiful  grass.  I'm  going  to  get  the  cow  on  to  the 
roof  to  eat  it.  She'll  be  quite  safe,  for  I  shall  tie  a  string 
round  her  neck,  and  pass  it  down  the  chimney,  and  tie  it  to 
my  wrist  as  I  go  about  the  house,  so  she  can't  fall  off 
without  my  knowing  it."  "  Oh,  you  poor  old  silly ! "  said 
the  gentleman,  "you  should  cut  the  grass  and  throw  it 
down  to  the  cow  I "  But  the  old  woman  thought  it  was 
easier  to  get  the  cow  up  the  ladder  than  to  get  the  grass 
down,  so  she  pushed  her  and  coaxed  her  and  got  her  up, 
and  tied  a  string  round  her  neck,  and  passed  it  down  the 
chimney,  and  fastened  it  to  her  own  wrist.  And  the  gentle- 
man went  on  his  way,  but  he  hadn't  gone  far  when  the  cow 
tumbled  off  the  roof,  and  hung  by  the  string  tied  round  her 
neck,  and  it  strangled  her.  And  the  weight  of  the  cow 
tied  to  her  wrist  pulled  the  old  woman  up  the  chimney, 
and  she  stuck  fast  half-way,  and  was  smothered  in  the  soot. 

Well,  that  was  one  big  silly. 

And  the  gentleman  went  on  and  on,  and  he  went  to  an 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  263 

inn  to  stop  the  night,  and  they  were  so  full  at  the  inn  that 
they  had  to  put  him  in  a  double-bedded  room,  and  another 
traveller  was  to  sleep  in  the  other  bed.  The  other  man  was  a 
very  pleasant  fellow,  and  they  got  very  friendly  together;  but 
in  the  morning,  when  they  were  both  getting  up,  the  gentle- 
man was  surprised  to  see  the  other  hang  his  trousers  on  the 
knobs  of  the  chest  of  drawers  and  run  across  the  room  and  try 
to  jump  into  them,  and  he  tried  over  and  over  again,  and 
couldn't  manage  it ;  and  the  gentleman  wondered  whatever 
he  was  doing  it  for.  At  last  he  stopped  and  wiped  his 
face  with  his  handkerchief.  "  Oh  dear,"  he  says,  "I  do  think 
trousers  are  the  most  awkwardest  kind  of  clothes  that  ever 
were.  I  can't  think  who  could  have  invented  such  things. 
It  takes  me  the  best  part  of  an  hour  to  get  into  mine 
every  morning,  and  I  get  so  hot !  How  do  you  manage 
yours?"  So  the  gentleman  burst  out  a-laughing,  and 
showed  him  how  to  put  them  on ;  and  he  was  very  much 
obliged  to  him,  and  said  he  never  should  have  thought 
of  doing  it  that  way.     So  that  was  another  big  silly. 

Then  the  gentleman  went  on  his  travels  again ;  and  he 
came  to  a  village,  and  outside  the  village  there  was  a  pond, 
and  round  the  pond  was  a  crowd  of  people.  And  they 
had  got  rakes,  and  brooms,  and  pikels  (pitchforks),  reaching 
into  the  pond ;  and  the  gentleman  asked  what  was  the 
matter.  "Why,"  they  says,  "matter  enough!  Moon's 
tumbled  into  the  pond,  and  we  can't  get  her  out  any- 
how ! "  So  the  gentleman  burst  out  a-laughing,  and  told 
them  to  look  up  into  the  sky,  and  that  it  was  only  the 
shadow  in  the  water.  But  they  wouldn't  listen  to  him, 
and  abused  him  shamefully,  and  he  got  away  as  quick 
as  he  could.  ^ 

^  Miss  Burne  writes  to  me  as  follows : — "  I  find  my  sister-in-law, 
also  a  Staffordshire  woman,  knew  the  story  when  a  child,  with  the 


264    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES, 

So  there  was  a  whole  lot  of  sillies  bigger  than  them  all, 
and  the  gentleman  turned  back  home  again  and  married 
the  farmer's  daughter. 

variation  of  an  old  woman  weeding  by  candlelight  at  noonday,  instead 
of  the  moonrakers."  The  story  has  many  variants ;  but  I  know  of 
none  better  told  than  this. 


MR.  VINEGAR.1 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vinegar  lived  in  a  vinegar  bottle.  Now,  one 
day,  when  Mr.  Vinegar  was  from  home,  Mrs.  Vinegar,  who 
was  a  very  good  housewife,  was  busily  sweeping  her  house, 
when  an  unlucky  thump  of  the  broom  brought  the  whole 
house  clitter-clatter,  clitter-clatter,  about  her  ears.  In  a 
paroxysm  of  grief  she  rushed  forth  to  meet  her  husband. 
On  seeing  him  she  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Mr.  Vinegar,  Mr. 
Vinegar,  we  are  ruined,  we  are  ruined :  I  have  knocked  the 
house  down,  and  it  is  all  to  pieces ! "  Mr.  Vinegar  then 
said:  "My  dear,  let  us  see  what  can  be  done.  Here  is  the 
door;  I  will  take  it  on  my  back,  and  we  will  go  forth  to 
seek  our  fortune."  They  walked  all  that  day,  and  at  night- 
fall entered  a  thick  forest  They  were  both  excessively 
tired,  and  Mr.  Vinegar  said:  "  My  love,  I  will  cHmb  up  into 
a  tree,  drag  up  the  door,  and  you  shall  follow."  He  accord- 
ingly did  so,  and  they  both  stretched  their  weary  limbs  on 
the  door,  and  fell  fast  asleep.  In  the  middle  of  the  night 
Mr.  Vinegar  was  disturbed  by  the  sound  of  voices  beneath, 
and  to  his  inexpressible  dismay  perceived  that  a  party  of 
thieves  were  met  to  divide  their  booty.  "  Here,  Jack," 
said  one,  "  here's  five  pounds  for  you  j  here.  Bill,  here's  ten 
pounds  for  you;  here.  Bob,  here's  three  pounds  for  you." 
Mr.  Vinegar  could  listen  no  longer;  his  terror  was  so 
intense  that  he  trembled  most  violently,  and  shook  down 
the  door  on  their  heads.  Away  scampered  the  thieves,  but 
^  J.  O.  Halliwell,  Popular  Rhynus  and  Nursery  Tales,  p.  26. 


266  ENGLISH  FOLK 

Mr.  Vinegar  dared  nor  quit  his  retreat  till  broad  daylight 
He  then  scrambled  out  of  the  tree,  and  went  to  lift  up  the 
door.  What  did  he  behold  but  a  number  of  golden  guineas. 
"  Come  down,  Mrs.  Vinegar,"  he  cried ;  "come  down,  I  say; 
our  fortune's  made,  our  fortune's  made !  Come  down,  I  say." 
Mrs.  Vinegar  got  down  as  fast  as  she  could,  and  saw  the 
money  with  equal  delight.  "  Now,  my  dear,"  said  she, 
" 111  tell  you  what  you  shall  do.  There  is  a  fair  at  the 
neighbouring  town ;  you  shall  take  these  forty  guineas  and 
buy  a  cow.  I  can  make  butter  and  cheese,  which  you  shall 
sell  at  market,  and  we  shall  then  be  able  to  live  very  com- 
fortably." Mr.  Vinegar  joyfully  assents,  takes  the  money, 
and  goes  oflf  to  the  fair.  When  he  arrived,  he  walked  up 
and  down,  and  at  length  saw  a  beautiful  red  cow.  It  was 
an  excellent  milker,  and  perfect  in  every  respect.  "  Oh," 
thought  Mr.  Vinegar,  "  if  I  had  but  that  cow,  I  should  be 
the  happiest  man  alive."  So  he  offers  the  forty  guineas  for 
the  cow,  and  the  owner  declaring  that,  as  he  was  a  friend, 
he'd  oblige  him,  the  bargain  was  made.  Proud  of  his 
purchase,  he  drove  the  cow  backwards  and  forwards  to 
show  it  By-and-by  he  saw  a  man  playing  the  bagpipes — 
Tweedle-dum,  tweedle-dee.  The  children  followed  him 
about,  and  he  appeared  to  be  pocketing  money  on  all  sides. 
"Well,"  thought  Mr.  Vinegar,  "if  I  had  but  that  beautiful 
instrument,  I  should  be  the  happiest  man  alive — my  fortune 
would  be  made."  So  he  went  up  to  the  man.  "  Friend,"  says 
he,  "  what  a  beautiful  instrument  that  is,  and  what  a  deal  of 
money  you  must  make."  "Why,  yes,"  said  the  man,  "I 
make  a  great  deal  of  money,  to  be  sure,  and  it  is  a  wonderful 
instrument"  "Oh!"  cried  Mr.  Vinegar,  "how  I  should 
like  to  possess  it !  "  "  Well,"  said  the  man,  "as  you  are  a 
friend,  I  don't  much  mind  parting  with  it ;  you  shall  have 
it  for  that  red  cow."      "  Done !  "  said  the  delighted  Mr. 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  267 

Vinegar.  So  the  beautiful  red  cow  was  given  for  the  bag- 
pipes. He  walked  up  and  down  with  his  purchase;  but  in 
vain  he  attempted  to  play  a  tune,  and  instead  of  pocketing 
pence,  the  boys  followed  him  hooting,  laughing,  and 
pelting. 

Poor  Mr.  Vinegar,  his  fingers  grew  very  cold,  and  heartily 
ashamed  and  mortified,  he  was  leaving  the  town,  when  he 
met  a  man  with  a  fine  thick  pair  of  gloves.  "Oh,  my 
fingers  are  so  very  cold,"  said  Mr.  Vinegar  to  himself.  "  If 
I  had  but  those  beautiful  gloves  I  should  be  the  happiest 
man  alive."  He  went  up  to  the  man,  and  said  to  him : 
"  Friend,  you  seem  to  have  a  capital  pair  of  gloves  there." 
"  Yes,  truly,"  cried  the  man ;  "  and  my  hands  are  as  warm 
as  possible  this  cold  November  day."  "  Well,"  said  Mr. 
Vinegar,  **  I  should  like  to  have  them."  "  What  will  you 
give  ?  "  said  the  man ;  "  as  you  are  a  friend,  I  don't  much 
mind  letting  you  have  them  for  those  bagpipes."  "Done !" 
cried  Mr.  Vinegar.  He  put  on  the  gloves,  and  felt  perfectly 
happy  as  he  trudged  homewards. 

At  last  he  grew  very  tired,  when  he  saw  a  man  coming 
towards  him  with  a  good  stout  stick  in  his  hand. 

"  Oh,"  said  Mr.  Vinegar,  "  that  I  had  but  that  stick !  I 
should  then  be  the  happiest  man  alive."  He  accosted  the 
man :  "  Friend !  what  a  rare  good  stick  you  have  got." 
"  Yes,"  said  the  man ;  "  I  have  used  it  for  many  a  long 
mile,  and  a  good  friend  it  has  been ;  but  if  you  have  a 
fancy  for  it,  as  you  are  a  friend,  I  don't  mind  giving  it  to 
you  for  that  pair  of  gloves."  Mr.  Vinegar's  hands  were  so 
warm,  and  his  legs  so  tired,  that  he  gladly  exchanged.  As 
he  drew  near  to  the  wood  where  he  had  left  his  wife,  he 
heard  a  parrot  on  a  tree  calling  out  his  name :  "  Mr. 
Vinegar,  you  foolish  man,  you  blockhead,  you  simpleton ; 
you  went  to  the  fair,  and  laid  out  all  your  money  in  buying 


268    ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

a  cow.  Not  content  with  that,  you  changed  it  for  bagpipes, 
on  which  you  could  not  play,  and  which  were  not  worth 
one-tenth  of  the  money.  You  fool,  you — you  had  no 
sooner  got  the  bagpipes  than  you  changed  them  for  the 
gloves,  which  were  not  worth  one-quarter  of  the  money; 
and  when  you  had  got  the  gloves,  you  changed  them  for  a 
poor  miserable  stick ;  and  now  for  your  forty  guineas,  cow, 
bagpipes,  and  gloves,  you  have  nothing  to  show  but  that 
poor  miserable  stick,  which  you  might  have  cut  in  any 
hedge."  On  this  the  bird  laughed  immoderately,  and  Mr. 
Vinegar,  falling  into  a  violent  rage,  threw  the  stick  at  its 
head.  The  stick  lodged  in  the  tree,  and  he  returned  to  his 
wife  without  money,  cow,  bagpipes,  gloves,  or  stick,  and  she 
instantly  gave  him  such  a  sound  cudgelling  that  she  almost 
broke  every  bone  in  his  skin. 


LAZY  JACK.1 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  boy  whose  name  was  Jack, 
and  he  lived  with  his  mother  on  a  dreary  common.  They 
were  very  poor,  and  the  old  woman  got  her  living  by 
spinning,  but  Jack  was  so  lazy  that  he  would  do  nothing 
but  bask  in  the  sun  in  the  hot  weather,  and  sit  by  the 
corner  of  the  hearth  in  the  winter  time.  His  mother  could 
not  persuade  him  to  do  anything  for  her,  and  was  obliged 
at  last  to  tell  him  that  if  he  did  not  begin  to  work  for  his 
porridge  she  would  turn  him  out  to  get  his  living  as  he 
could. 

This  threat  at  length  roused  Jack,  and  he  went  out  and 
hired  himself  for  the  day  to  a  neighbouring  farmer  for  a 
penny ;  but  as  he  was  coming  home,  never  having  had  any 
money  in  his  possession  before,  he  lost  it  in  passing  over  a 
brook.  "You  stupid  boy,"  said  his  mother,  "you  should 
have  put  it  in  your  pocket."  "ru  do  so  another  time," 
replied  Jack. 

The  next  day  Jack  went  out  again  and  hired  himself  to  a 
cowkeeper,  who  gave  him  a  jar  of  milk  for  his  day's  work. 
Jack  took  the  jar  and  put  it  into  the  large  pocket  of  his 
jacket,  spilling  it  all  long  before  he  got  home.  "Dear 
me ! "  said  the  old  woman ;  "  you  should  have  carried  it 
on  your  head."     "  I'll  do  so  another  time,"  said  Jack. 

The  following  day  Jack  hired  himself  again  to  a  farmer, 
who  agreed  to  give  him  a  cream  cheese  for  his  services. 

*  J.  O.  IlalliweH,  Popular  Rkymts  and  Nursery  Tales,  p.  37. 


270  ENGLISH  FOLK 

In  the  evening  Jack  took  the  cheese,  and  went  home  with 
it  on  his  head.  By  the  time  he  got  home  the  cheese  was 
completely  spoilt,  part  of  it  being  lost,  and  part  matted  wiih 
his  hair.  "You  stupid  lout,"  said  his  mother,  "you  should 
have  carried  it  very  carefully  in  your  hands."  "  I'll  do  so 
another  time,"  replied  Jack. 

The  day  after  this  Jack  again  went  out,  and  hired  himself 
to  a  baker,  who  would  give  him  nothing  for  his  work  but  a 
large  tom-cat.  Jack  took  the  cat,  and  began  carrying  it 
very  carefully  in  his  hands,  but  in  a  short  time  pussy 
scratched  him  so  much  that  he  was  compelled  to  let  it  go. 
When  he  got  home,  his  mother  said  to  him:  "You  silly 
fellow,  you  should  have  tied  it  with  a  string,  and  dragged  it 
along  after  you."     "  I'll  do  so  another  time,"  said  Jack. 

The  next  day  Jack  hired  himself  to  a  butcher,  who 
rewarded  his  labours  by  the  handsome  present  of  a  shoulder 
of  mutton.  Jack  took  the  mutton,  tied  it  to  a  string,  and 
trailed  it  along  after  him  in  the  dirt,  so  that  by  the  time  he 
had  got  home  the  meat  was  completely  spoilt.  His  mother 
was  this  time  quite  out  of  patience  with  him,  for  the  next 
day  was  Sunday,  and  she  was  obliged  to  content  herself 
with  cabbage  for  her  dinner.  *'  You  ninney-hammer,"  said 
she  to  her  son,  "you  should  have  carried  it  on  your 
shoulder."     "  I'll  do  so  another  time,"  replied  Jack. 

On  the  Monday  Jack  went  once  more,  and  hired  himself 
to  a  cattle-keeper,  who  gave  him  a  donkey  for  his  trouble. 
Although  Jack  was  very  strong,  he  found  some  difficulty  in 
hoisting  the  donkey  on  his  shoulders,  but  at  last  he 
accomplished  it,  and  began  walking  slowly  home  with  his 
prize.  Now  it  happened  that  in  the  course  of  his  journey 
there  lived  a  rich  man  with  his  only  daughter,  a  beautiful 
girl,  but  unfortunately  deaf  and  dumb ;  she  had  never 
laughed  in  her  life,  and  the  doctors  said  she  would  never 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  271 

recover  till  somebody  made  her  laugh.  This  young  lady 
happened  to  be  looking  out  of  the  window  when  Jack  was 
passing  with  the  donkey  on  his  shoulders,  the  legs  sticking 
up  in  the  air,  and  the  sight  was  so  comical  and  strange  that 
she  burst  out  into  a  great  fit  of  laughter,  and  immediately 
recovered  her  speech  and  hearing.  Her  father  was  over- 
joyed, and  fulfilled  his  promise  by  marrying  her  to  Jack, 
who  was  thus  made  a  rich  gentleman.  They  lived  in  a 
large  house,  and  Jack's  mother  lived  with  them  in  great 
happiness  until  she  died. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  TOM  THUMB.i 

It  is  said  that  in  the  days  of  the  celebrated  Prince  Arthur, 
who  was  king  of  Britain  in  the  year  516,  there  lived  a  great 
magician,  called  Merlin,  the  most  learned  and  skilful 
enchanter  in  the  world  at  that  time. 

This  famous  magician,  who  could  assume  cOiy  form  he 
pleased,  was  travelling  in  the  disguise  of  a  poor  beggar,  and 
being  very  much  fatigued,  he  stopped  at  the  cottage  of  an 
honest  ploughman  to  rest  himself,  and  asked  for  some 
refreshment. 

The  countryman  gave  him  a  hearty  welcome,  and  his 
wife,  who  was  a  very  good-hearted,  hospitable  woman,  soon 
brought  him  some  milk  in  a  wooden  bowl,  and  some  coarse 
brown  bread  on  a  platter. 

Merlin  was  much  pleased  with  this  homely  repast  and 
the  kindness  of  the  ploughman  and  his  wife ;  but  he  could 
not  help  observing  that  though  everything  was  neat  and 
comfortable  in  the  cottage,  they  seemed  both  to  be  very 
dispirited  and  unhappy.  He  therefore  questioned  them  on 
the  cause  of  their  melancholy,  and  learned  that  they  were 
miserable  because  they  had  no  children. 

The  poor  woman  declared,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  that 
she  should  be  the  happiest  creature  in  the  world  if  she  had 
a  son ;  and  although  he  was  no  bigger  than  her  husband's 
thumb,  she  would  be  satisfied. 

*  From  a  Chap-book — The  Comical  and  Merry  Tricks  0/  Tom 
Thumb.     Paisley  {circa  1S20). 


ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES.     273 

Merlin  was  so  much  amused  with  the  idea  of  a  boy  no 
bigger  than  a  man's  thumb,  that  he  determined  to  pay  a 
visit  to  the  queen  of  the  fairies,  and  request  her  to  gratify 
the  poor  woman's  wish.  The  droll  fancy  of  such  a  little 
personage  among  the  human  race  pleased  the  fairy  queen 
too,  exceedingly,  and  she  prom.ised  Merlin  that  the  wish 
should  be  granted.  Accordingly,  in  a  short  time  after, 
the  ploughman's  wife  was  safely  delivered  of  a  son,  who, 
wonderful  to  relate !  was  not  a  bit  bigger  than  his  father's 
thumb. 

The  fairy  queen,  wishing  to  see  the  little  fellow  thus  bom 
into  the  world,  came  in  at  the  window  while  the  mother  was 
sitting  up  in  the  bed  admiring  him.  The  queen  kissed  the 
child,  and,  giving  it  the  name  of  Tom  Thumb,  sent  for  some 
of  the  fairies,  who  dressed  her  little  favourite  according  to 
the  instructions  she  gave  them : 

"  An  oak-leaf  hat  he  had  for  his  crown  ; 
His  shirt  of  web  by  spiders  spun  ; 
With  jacket  wove  of  thistle's  down ; 
His  trowsers  were  of  feathers  done. 
His  stockings,  of  apple-rind,  they  tie 
With  eyelash  from  his  mother's  eye : 
His  shoes  were  made  of  mouse's  skin, 
Tann'd  with  the  downy  hair  within." 

It  is  remarkable  that  Tom  never  grew  any  larger  than 
his  father's  thumb,  which  was  only  of  an  ordinary  size; 
but  as  he  got  older  he  became  very  cunning  and  full  of 
tricks.  When  he  was  old  enough  to  play  with  the  boys, 
and  had  lost  all  his  own  cherry-stones,  he  used  to  creep 
into  the  bags  of  his  playfellows,  fill  his  pockets,  and,  getting 
out  unobserved,  would  again  join  in  the  game. 

One  day,  however,  as  he  was  coming  out  of  a  bag  of 
cherry-stones,  where  he  had  been  pilfering  as  usual,  the 


274  ENGLISH  FOLK 

boy  to  whom  it  belonged  chanced  to  see  him.  "  Ah,  ha  ! 
my  little  Tommy,"  said  the  boy,  "so  I  have  caught  you 
stealing  my  cherry-stones  at  last,  and  you  shall  be  rewarded 
for  your  thievish  tricks."  On  saying  this,  he  drew  the 
string  tight  round  his  neck,  and  gave  the  bag  such  a  hearty 
shake,  that  poor  little  Tom's  legs,  thighs,  and  body  were 
sadly  bruised.  He  roared  out  with  pain,  and  begged  to  be 
let  out,  promising  never  to  be  guilty  of  such  bad  practices 
again. 

A  short  time  afterwards  his  mother  was  making  a  batter- 
pudding,  and  Tom,  being  very  anxious  to  see  how  it  was 
made,  climbed  up  to  the  edge  of  the  bowl ;  but  unfortunately 
his  foot  slipped,  and  he  plumped  over  head  and  ears  into 
the  batter,  unobserved  by  his  mother,  who  stirred  him  into 
the  pudding-bag,  and  put  him  in  the  pot  to  boil. 

The  batter  had  filled  Tom's  mouth,  and  prevented  him 
from  crying ;  but,  on  feeling  the  hot  water,  he  kicked  and 
struggled  so  much  in  the  pot,  that  his  mother  thought  that 
the  pudding  was  bewitched,  and,  instantly  pulling  it  out  of 
the  pot,  she  threw  it  to  the  door.  A  poor  tinker,  who  was 
passing  by,  lifted  up  the  pudding,  and,  putting  it  into  his 
budget,  he  then  walked  off.  As  Tom  had  now  got  his 
mouth  cleared  of  the  batter,  he  then  began  to  cry  aloud, 
which  so  frightened  the  tinker  that  he  flung  down  the 
pudding  and  ran  away.  The  pudding  being  broke  to  pieces 
by  the  fall,  Tom  crept  out  covered  over  with  the  batter, 
and  with  difliculty  walked  home.  His  mother,  who  was 
very  sorry  to  see  her  darling  in  such  a  woful  state,  put  him 
into  a  tea-cup,  and  soon  washed  off  the  batter ;  after  which 
she  kissed  him,  and  laid  him  in  bed. 

Soon  after  the  adventure  of  the  pudding,  Tom's  mother 
went  to  milk  her  cow  in  the  meadow,  and  she  took  him 
along  with  her.     As  the  w^ind  was  very  high,  for  fear  of 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  275 

being  blown  away,  she  tied  him  to  a  thistle  with  a  piece  of 
fine  thread.  The  cow  soon  observed  the  oak-leaf  hat,  and, 
liking  the  appearance  of  it,  took  poor  Tom  and  the  thistle 
at  one  mouthful.  While  the  cow  was  chewing  the  thistle 
Tom  was  afraid  of  her  great  teeth,  which  threatened  to 
crush  him  in  pieces,  and  he  roared  out  as  loud  as  he  could : 
"  Mother,  mother  !  " 

"Where  are  you.  Tommy,  my  dear  Tommy?"  said  his 
mother. 

"  Here,  mother,"  replied  he,  "  in  the  red  cow's  mouth." 

His  mother  began  to  cry  and  wring  her  hands ;  but  the 
cow,  surprised  at  the  odd  noise  in  her  throat,  opened  her 
mouth  and  let  Tom  drop  out.  Fortunately  his  mother 
caught  him  in  her  apron  as  he  was  falling  to  the  ground,  or 
he  would  have  been  dreadfully  hurt.  She  then  put  Tom  in 
her  bosom  and  ran  home  with  him. 

Tom's  father  made  him  a  whip  of  a  barley  straw  to  drive 
the  cattle  with,  and  having  one  day  gone  into  the  fields,  he 
slipped  a  foot  and  rolled  into  the  furrow.  A  raven,  which 
was  flying  over,  picked  him  up,  and  flew  with  him  to  the 
top  of  a  giant's  castle  that  was  near  the  sea-side,  and  there 
left  him. 

Tom  was  in  a  dreadful  state,  and  did  not  know  what 
to  do ;  but  he  was  soon  more  dreadfully  frightened ;  for  old 
Grumbo  the  giant  came  up  to  walk  on  the  terrace,  and 
observing  Tom,  he  took  him  up  and  swallowed  him  like  a 
pill. 

The  giant  had  no  sooner  swallowed  Tom  than  he  began 
to  repent  what  he  had  done ;  for  Tom  began  to  kick  and 
jump  about  so  much  that  he  felt  very  uncomfortable,  and 
at  last  threw  him  up  again  into  the  sea.  A  large  fish 
swallowed  Tom  the  moment  he  fell  into  the  sea,  which 
was  soon  after  caught,  and  bought  for  the  table  of  King 


276  ENGLISH  FOLK 

Arthur.  When  they  opened  the  fish  in  order  to  cook  it, 
every  one  was  astonished  at  finding  such  a  httle  boy,  and 
Tom  was  quite  delighted  at  regaining  his  hberty.  They 
carried  him  to  the  king,  who  made  Tom  his  dwarf,  and  he 
soon  grew  a  great  favourite  at  court ;  for  by  his  tricks  and 
gambols  he  not  only  amused  the  king  and  queen,  but  also 
all  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table. 

It  is  said  that  when  the  king  rode  out  on  horseback,  he 
frequently  took  Tom  along  with  him,  and  if  a  shower  came 
on,  he  used  to  creep  into  his  majesty's  waistcoat  pocket, 
v/here  he  slept  till  the  rain  was  over. 

King  Arthur  one  day  interrogated  Tom  about  his  parents, 
wishing  to  know  if  they  were  as  small  as  he  was,  and  what 
circumstances  they  were  in.  Tom  told  the  king  that  his 
father  and  mother  were  as  tall  as  any  of  the  persons  about 
court,  but  in  rather  poor  circumstances.  On  hearing  this, 
the  king  carried  Tom  to  his  treasury,  the  place  where  he 
kept  all  his  money,  and  told  him  to  take  as  much  money  ai 
he  could  carry  home  to  his  parents,  which  made  the  poor 
little  fellow  caper  with  joy.  Tom  went  immediately  to 
procure  a  purse,  which  was  made  of  a  water-bubble,  and 
then  returned  to  the  treasury,  where  he  received  a  silver 
threepenny-piece  to  put  into  it. 

Our  little  hero  had  some  difficulty  in  lifting  the  burden 
upon  his  back ;  but  he  at  last  succeeded  in  getting  it  placed 
to  his  mind,  and  set  forward  on  his  journey.  However, 
without  meeting  with  any  accident,  and  after  resting  himself 
more  than  a  hundred  times  by  the  way,  in  two  days  and  two 
nights  he  reached  his  father's  house  in  safety. 

Tom  had  travelled  fortj'-eight  hours  with  a  huge  silver- 
piece  on  his  back,  and  was  almost  tired  to  death,  when  his 
mother  ran  out  to  meet  him.  and  carried  him  into  the 
house. 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  277 

Tom's  parents  were  both  happy  to  see  him,  and  the  more 
so  as  he  had  brought  such  an  amazing  sum  of  money  with 
him ;  but  the  poor  little  fellow  was  excessively  wearied, 
having  travelled  half  a  mile  in  forty-eight  hours,  with  a  huge 
silver  threepenny-piece  on  his  back.  His  mother,  in  order 
to  recover  him  from  the  fatigue  he  had  undergone,  placed 
him  in  a  walnut  shell  by  the  fireside,  and  feasted  him  for 
three  days  on  a  hazel-nut,  which  made  him  very  sick ;  for 
a  whole  nut  used  to  serve  him  a  month. 

Tom  soon  recovered;  but  as  there  had  been  a  fall  of 
rain,  and  the  ground  very  wet,  he  could  not  travel  back  to 
King  Arthur's  court;  therefore  his  mother,  one  day  when 
the  wind  was  blowing  in  that  direction,  made  a  little  parasol 
of  cambric  paper,  and  tying  Tom  to  it,  she  gave  him  a  puflf 
into  the  air  with  her  mouth,  which  soon  carried  him  to  the 
king's  palace.  The  king,  queen,  and  all  the  nobility  were 
happy  to  see  Tom  again  at  court,  where  he  delighted  them 
by  his  dexterity  at  tilts  and  tournaments  ;  but  his  exertions 
to  please  them  cost  him  very  dear,  and  brought  on  such  a 
severe  fit  of  illness  that  his  life  was  despaired  of. 

However,  the  queen  of  the  fairies,  hearing  of  his  indis- 
position, came  to  court  in  a  chariot  drawn  by  flying  mice, 
and  placing  Tom  by  her  side,  drove  through  the  air  without 
stopping  till  they  arrived  at  her  palace.  After  restoring 
him  to  health,  and  permitting  him  to  enjoy  all  the  gay 
diversion  of  Fairy-land,  the  queen  commanded  a  strong 
current  of  air  to  arise,  on  which  she  placed  Tom,  who 
floated  upon  it  like  a  cork  in  the  water,  and  sent  him 
instantly  to  the  royal  palace  of  King  Arthur. 

Just  at  the  time  when  Tom  came  flying  across  the  court- 
yard of  the  palace,  the  cook  happened  to  be  passing  with 
the  king's  great  bowl  of  furmenty,  which  was  a  dish  his 
majesty  was  very  fond  of;  but  unfortunately  the  poor  little 

20 


278  ENGLISH  FOLK 

fellow  fell  plump  into  the  middle  of  it,  and  splashed  the 
hot  furmenty  about  the  cook's  face. 

The  cook,  who  was  an  ill-natured  fello^i),  being  in  a 
terrible  rage  at  Tom  for  frightening  and  scalding  him  with 
the  furmenty,  went  straight  to  the  king,  and  represented 
that  Tom  had  jumped  into  the  royal  furmenty,  and  thrown 
it  down  out  of  mere  mischief.  The  king  was  so  enraged 
when  he  heard  this,  that  he  ordered  Tom  to  be  seized  and 
tried  for  high  treason;  and  there  being  no  person  who 
dared  to  plead  for  him,  he  was  condemned  to  be  beheaded 
immediately. 

On  hearing  this  dreadful  sentence  pronounced,  poor 
Tom  fell  a-trembling  with  fear,  but,  seeing  no  means  of 
escape,  and  observing  a  miller  close  to  him  gaping  with 
his  great  mouth,  as  country  boobies  do  at  a  fair,  he 
took  a  leap,  and  fairly  jumped  down  his  throat  This 
exploit  was  done  with  such  activity  that  not  one  person 
present  saw  it,  and  even  the  miller  did  not  know  the  trick 
which  Tom  had  played  upon  him.  Now,  as  Tom  had 
disappeared,  the  court  broke  up,  and  the  miller  went  home 
to  his  mill. 

When  Tom  heard  the  mill  at  work,  he  knew  he  was  clear 
of  the  court,  and  therefore  he  began  to  tumble  and  roll 
about,  so  that  the  poor  miller  could  get  no  rest,  thinking  he 
was  bewitched  i  so  he  sent  for  a  doctor.  When  the  doctor 
came,  Tom  began  to  dance  and  sing ;  and  the  doctor,  being 
as  much  frightened  as  the  miller,  sent  in  haste  for  five  other 
doctors  and  twenty  learned  men. 

When  they  were  debating  upon  the  cause  of  this  extra- 
ordinary occurrence,  the  miller  happened  to  yawn,  when 
Tom,  embracing  the  opportunity,  made  another  jump,  and 
alighted  safely  upon  his  feet  on  the  middle  of  the  table. 

The   miller,    who   was   very   much   provoked    at   being 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  279 

tormented  by  such  a  little  pigmy  creature,  fell  into  a  terrible 
rage,  and,  laying  hold  of  Tom,  he  then  opened  the  window, 
and  threw  him  into  the  river.  At  the  moment  the  miller 
let  Tom  drop  a  large  salmon  swimming  along  at  the  time 
saw  him  fall,  and  snapped  him  up  in  a  minute.  A  fisher- 
man caught  the  salmon,  and  sold  it  in  the  market  to  the 
steward  of  a  great  lord.  The  nobleman,  on  seeing  the  fish, 
thought  it  so  uncommonly  fine  that  he  made  a  present  of 
it  to  King  Arthur,  who  ordered  it  to  be  dressed  immediately. 
When  the  cook  cut  open  the  fish,  he  found  poor  Tom,  and 
ran  to  the  king  with  him ;  but  his  majesty,  being  engaged 
with  state  affairs,  ordered  him  to  be  taken  away,  and  kept 
in  custody  till  he  sent  for  him. 

The  cook  was  determined  that  Tom  should  not  slip  out 
of  his  hands  this  time,  so  he  put  him  into  a  mouse-trap,  and 
left  him  to  peep  through  the  wires.  Tom  had  remained  in 
the  trap  a  whole  week,  when  he  was  sent  for  by  King 
Arthur,  who  pardoned  him  for  throwing  down  the  furmenty, 
and  took  him  again  into  favour.  On  account  of  his  wonder- 
ful feats  of  activity,  Tom  was  knighted  by  the  king,  and 
went  under  the  name  of  the  renowned  Sir  Thomas  Thumb. 
As  Tom's  clothes  had  suffered  much  in  the  batter-pudding, 
the  furmenty,  and  the  insides  of  the  giant,  miller,  and  fishes, 
his  majesty  ordered  him  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  and  to  be 
mounted  as  a  knight. 

"  Of  Butterfly's  wngs  his  shirt  was  made, 

His  boots  of  chicken's  hide  ; 
And  by  a  nimble  fairy  blade, 
Well  learned  in  the  tailoring  trade. 

His  clothing  was  supplied. — 
A  needle  dangled  by  his  side  ; 
A  dapper  mouse  he  used  to  ride, 
Thus  strutted  Tom  in  stately  pride  I " 


28o  ENGLISH  FOLK 

It  was  certainly  very  diverting  to  see  Tom  in  this  dress, 
and  mounted  on  the  mouse,  as  he  rode  out  a-hunting  with 
the  king  and  nobility,  who  were  all  ready  to  expire  with 
laughter  at  Tom  and  his  jfine  prancing  charger. 

One  day,  as  they  were  riding  by  a  farmhouse,  a  large  cat, 
which  was  lurking  about  the  door,  made  a  spring,  and 
seized  both  Tom  and  his  mouse.  She  then  ran  up  a 
tree  with  them,  and  was  beginning  to  devour  the  mouse; 
but  Tom  boldly  drew  his  sword,  and  attacked  the  cat  so 
fiercely  that  she  let  them  both  fall,  when  one  of  the  nobles 
caught  him  in  his  hat,  and  laid  him  on  a  bed  of  down,  in  a 
little  ivory  cabinet. 

The  queen  of  the  fairies  came  soon  after  to  pay  Tom  a 
visit,  and  carried  him  back  to  Fairy-land,  where  he 
remained  several  years.  During  his  residence  there,  King 
Arthur,  and  all  the  persons  who  knew  Tom,  had  died ;  and 
as  he  was  desirous  of  being  again  at  court,  the  fairy  queen, 
after  dressing  him  in  a  suit  of  clothes,  sent  him  flying 
through  the  air  to  the  palace,  in  the  days  of  King  Thunstone, 
the  successor  of  Arthur.  Every  one  flocked  round  to  see 
him,  and  being  carried  to  the  king,  he  was  asked  who  he 
was — whence  he  came — and  where  he  lived?  Tom 
answered : 

"  My  name  is  Tom  Thumb, 
From  the  fairies  I've  come. 
"When  King  Arthur  shone, 
This  court  was  my  home. 
In  me  he  delighted, 
By  him  I  was  knighted  ; 
Did  you  never  hear  of  Sir  Thomas  Thumb?  " 

The  king  was  so  charmed  with  this  address  that  he 
ordered  a  little  chair  to  be  made,  in  order  that  Tom  might 
sit  upon  his  table,  and  also  a  palace  of  gold,  a  span  high, 


AND  FAIRY  TALES.  281 

with  a  door  an  inch  wide,  to  live  in.     He  also  gave  him  a 
coach,  drawn  by  six  small  mice. 

The  queen  was  so  enraged  at  the  honours  conferred  on 
Sir  Thomas  that  she  resolved  to  ruin  him,  and  told  the 
king  that  the  little  knight  had  been  saucy  to  her. 

The  king  sent  for  Tom  in  great  haste,  but  being  fully 
aware  of  the  danger  of  royal  anger,  he  crept  into  an  empty 
snail-shell,  where  he  lay  for  a  considerable  time,  until  he 
was  almost  starved  with  hunger ;  but  at  last  he  ventured  to 
peep  out,  and  perceiving  a  fine  large  butterfly  on  the 
ground,  near  the  place  of  his  concealment,  he  approached 
very  cautiously,  and  getting  himself  placed  astride  on  it, 
was  immediately  carried  up  into  the  air.  The  butterfly 
flew  with  him  from  tree  to  tree  and  from  field  to  field,  and 
at  last  returned  to  the  court,  where  the  king  and  nobility  all 
strove  to  catch  him ;  but  at  last  poor  Tom  fell  from  his 
seat  into  a  watering-pot,  in  which  he  was  almost  drowned. 

When  the  queen  saw  him  she  was  in  a  rage,  and  said  he 
should  be  beheaded ;  and  he  was  again  put  into  a  mouse- 
trap until  the  time  of  his  execution. 

However,  a  cat,  observing  something  alive  in  the  trap, 
patted  it  about  till  the  wires  broke,  and  set  Thomas  at 
liberty. 

The  king  received  Tom  again  into  favour,  which  he  did' 
not  live  to  enjoy,  for  a  large  spider  one  day  attacked  him ; 
and  although  he  drew  his  sword  and  fought  well,  yet  the 
spider's  poisonous  breath  at  last  overcame  him ; 

"  He  fell  dead  on  the  ground  where  he  stood, 
And  the  spider  suck'd  every  drop  of  his  blood." 

King  Thunstone  and  his  whole  court  were  so  sorry  at  the 
loss  of  their  little  favourite,  that  they  went  into  moiu-ning, 


282     ENGLISH  FOLK  AND  FAIR  Y  TALES. 

and  raised  a  fine  white  marble  monument  over  his  grave. 
v»rith  the  following  epitaph : 

"  Here  lyes  Tom  Thumb,  King  Arthur's  knight, 
Who  died  by  a  spider's  cruel  bite. 
He  was  well  known  in  Arthur's  court. 
Where  he  afforded  gallant  sport ; 
He  rode  at  tilt  and  tournament, 
And  on  a  mouse  a-hunling  went. 
Alive  he  filled  the  court  with  mirth  ; 
His  death  to  sorrow  soon  gave  birth. 
Wipe,  wipe  your  eyes,  and  shake  your  head 
And  cry, — Alas  !  Tom  Thumb  is  dead  I  " 


tilE  WALTER   SCOTT  FUBLISHIMC  CO.,   LIMITED,   Fl;LLI^■C■ON-TY^•E. 

4-06 


Great  Writers 

A  NEW  SERIES  OF  CRITICAL  BIOGRAPHIES. 

Edited  by  ERIC  ROBERTSON  and  FRANK  T.  MARZIALS. 

A  Complete  Bibliography  to  each  Vohime,  by  J.  P.  Anderson,  British 
Museum,  London. 

Cloth,  Uncut  Edges,  Gilt  Top.    Price  i*.  W. 
VOLUMES  ALREADY  ISSUED. 
LIFE  OF  LONGFELLOW.    By  Professor  Eric  S.  Robertson. 
LIFE  OF  COI.KRIDGE.     By  Hall  Caine. 
LIFK  OF  DICKENS.     By  Frank  T.  Marzials. 
LIFE  OF  DAME  GABRIEL  ROSSETTI.     By  J   Knight. 
LIFE  OF  SA.MUEL  JOHNSON.     By  Colonel  F.  Grant. 
LIFE  OF  DARWIN.     By  G.  T.  Bettany. 
LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE.     By  A.  Birrf.ii.. 
LIFE  OF  THOMAS  CARLYLE.     By  R.  Garnett,  LI„D. 
LIFE  OF  ADAM  SMITH.     By  R.  B.  Haldane,  M.P. 
LIFE  OF  KEATS.     By  W.  M.  Rossetti. 
LIFE  OF  SHELLEY.     By  William  Sharp. 
LIFE  OF  SMOLLETT.     By  David  Hannay. 
LIFE  OF  GOLDSMITH.     By  Austin  Dobson. 
LIFE  OF  SCOTT.     By  Professor  Yonge. 
LIFE  OF  BURNS.     By  Professor  Blackie. 
LIFE  OF  VICTOR  HUGO.     By  Frank  T.  Marziai..'!, 
LIFE  OF  EMER.SON.    By  Richard  Garnett,  LL.i). 
LIFE  OF  GOETHE.    By  James  Sime. 
LIFE  OF  CONGREVE.     By  Edmund  Gosse. 
LIFE  OF  BUNY.\N.     By  Canon  Venables. 
LIFE  OF  CRABBE.    By  T.  E.  Kebbel. 
LIFE  OF  HEINE.    By  William  Sharp 
LIFE  OF  MILL.     By  W.  L.  Courtnev. 
LIFE  OF  SCHILLER.     Bv  Henry  W.  Nevinsom 
LIFE  OF  CAPTAIN  MARRYAT.     By  David  Hannay. 
LIFE  OF  LESSING.     By  T.  W.  Rolleston. 
LIFE  OF  MILTON.    By  R.  Garnett,  LL.D. 
LIFE  OF  BALZAC.     By  Frederick  Wedmore. 
LIFE  OF  GEORGE  ELIOT.     By  Oscar  Browning. 
LIFE  OF  JANE  AUSTEN.     By  Goi.dwin  Smith. 
LIFE  OF  BROWNING.     By  William  Sharp. 
LIFE  OF  BYRON.     By  Hon.  Roden  Noel. 
LIFE  OF  HAWTHORNE.    By  Moncure  D.  Conway. 
LIFE  OF  SCHOPENHAUER.     By  Profe  sor  Wallace. 
LIFE  OF  SHERIDAN.     By  Lloyd  Sanders. 
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2  THOREAU'S  WALDEN.     WITH  INTRODUCTORY  NOTE 

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4  THOREAU'S     ESSAYS.       EDITED,     WITH    AN    INTRO- 

duction,  by  Will  H.  Dircks. 

5  CONFESSIONS  OF   AN   ENGLISH   OPIUM-EATER,  ETC 

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6  LANDOR'S  IMAGINARY  CONVERSATIONS.    SELECTED. 

with  Introduction,  by  Havelock  Ellis. 

7  PLUTARCH'S     LIVES    (LANGHORNE).      WITH    INTRO- 

ductory  Note  by  B.  J.  Snell,  M.A. 

8  BROWNE'S    RELIGIO     MEDICI,    ETC.      WITH    INTRO- 

duction  by  J.  Addington  Symonds. 

9  SHELLEY'S   ESSAYS  AND   LETTERS.     EDITED.   WITH 

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lo  SWIFT'S  PROSE  WRITINGS.   CHOSEN  AND  ARRANGED 
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n  MY  STUDY  WINDOWS.     BY  TAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 
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12  LOWELL'S  ESSAYS   ON  THE  ENGLISH  POETS.     WITH 

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13  THE  BIGLOW  PAPERS.     BY  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 

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i6  LEIGH  HUNT'S  ESSAYS.     WITH  INTRODUCTION  AND 
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17  LONGFELLOW'S    "HYPERION,"    "KAVANAGH,"    AND 

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18  GREAT    MUSICAL    COMPOSERS.       BY    G.    F.    FERRIS. 

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19  THE  MEDITATIONS  OF  MARCUS  AURELIUS.      EDITED 

by  Alice  Zimmem. 

20  THE  TEACHING  OF  EPICTETUS.     TRANSLATED  FROM 

the  Greek,  with  Introduction  and  Notes,  by  T.  W.  Bolleston. 

21  SELECTIONS  FROM   SENECA     WITH  INTRODUCTION 

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22  SPECIMEN  DAYS  IN  AMERICA.     BY  WALT  WHITMAN. 

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23  DEMOCRATIC    VISTAS,    AND    OTHER    PAPERS.       BY 

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24  WHITE'S   NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  SELBORNE.     WITH 

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25  DEFOE'S     CAPTAIN     SINGLETON.        EDITED,     WITH 

Introduction,  by  H.  Halliday  Sparling. 

26  MAZZINI'S     ESSAYS :     LITERARY,     POLITICAL,     AND 

Beligious.    With  Introduction  by  William  Clarke. 

27  PROSE  WRITINGS  OF  HEINE.     WITH  INTRODUCTION 

by  Havelock  Ellis. 

28  REYNOLDS'S    DISCOURSES.      WITH     INTRODUCTION 

by  Helen  Zimmem. 

29  PAPERS    OF     STEELE    AND    ADDISON.      EDITED    BY 

Walter  Lewin. 

30  BURNS'S     LETTERS.       SELECTED     AND    ARRANGED, 

with  Introduction,  by  J.  Logie  Bobertson,  M.A. 

31  VOLSUNGA    SAGA.      William  Morris.      WITH     INTRO- 

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32  SARTOR  RESARTUS.      BY  THOMAS   CARLYLE.     WITH 

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33  SELECT    WRITINGS    OF    EMERSON.       WITH     INTRO- 

duction  by  Percival  Chubb. 

34  AUTOBIOGRAPHY     OF     LORD     HERBERT.       EDITED, 

with  an  Introduction,  by  Will  H.  Dircka. 

35  ENGLISH      PROSE,      FROM     MAUNDEVILLE     TO 

Thackeray.    Chosen  and  Edited  by  Arthur  Galton. 

36  THE  PILLARS  OF  SOCIETY,  AND  OTHER  PLAYS.     BY 

Henrik  Ibsen.    Edited,  with  an  Introduction,  by  Havelock  Ellis. 

37  IRISH     FAIRY    AND     FOLK    TALES.       EDITED     AND 

Selected  by  W.  B.  Yeata. 

38  ESSAYS     OF    DR.    JOHNSON,    WITH     BIOGRAPHICAL 

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39  ESSAYS     OF    WILLIAM     HAZLITT.      SELECTED     AND 

Edited,  with  Introduction  and  Notes,  by  Frank  Carr. 

40  LANDOR'S  PENTAMERON,  AND  OTHER  IMAGINARY 

Conversations.    Edited,  with  a  Preface,  by  H.  EUia. 

41  POE'S   TALES   AND   ESSAYS.     EDITED,  WITH   INTRO- 

duction,  by  Ernest  Rhys. 

\2  VICAR    OF  WAKEFIELD.      BY    OLIVER    GOLDSMITH. 
Edited,  with  Preface,  by  Ernest  Rhys. 

\3  POLITICAL     ORATIONS,      FROM     WENTWORTH     TO 
Macaulay.    Edited,  with  Introduction,  by  WUliam  Clarke. 

V4  THE    AUTOCRAT    OF    THE    BREAKFAST-TABLE.      BY 
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45  THE  POET  AT  THE  BREAKFAST-TABLE.     BY  OLIVER 

Wendell  Holmes. 

46  THE   PROFESSOR  AT    THE    BREAKFAST-TABLE.      BY 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

47  LORD     CHESTERFIELD'S     LETTERS     TO     HIS     SON. 

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48  STORIES  FROM  CARLETON.   SELECTED,  WITH  INTRO- 

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50  ELIZABETHAN     ENGLAND.       EDITED     BY     LOTHROP 

Withington,  with  a  Preface  by  Dr.  Furnivall. 

51  THE  PROSE  WRITINGS  OF  THOMAS  DAVIS.     EDITED 

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52  SPENCE'S     ANECDOTES.       A     SELECTION.      EDITED, 

with  an  Introduction  and  Notes,  by  John  Underbill. 

53  MORE'S  UTOPIA,  AND  LIFE  OF  EDWARD  V.     EDITED, 

with  an  Introduction,  by  Maurice  Adams. 

54  SADI'S    GULISTAN,    OR    FLOWER    GARDEN.      TRANS- 

lated,  with  an  Essay,  by  James  Ross. 

55  ENGLISH    FAIRY    AND    FOLK    TALES.       EDITED     BY 

E.  Sidney  Hartland. 

56  NORTHERN    STUDIES.     BY    EDMUND    GOSSE.     WITH 

a  Note  by  Ernest  Rhys. 

57  EARLY  REVIEWS   OF  GREAT  WRITERS.     EDITED   BY 

E.  Stevenson. 

58  ARISTOTLE'S      ETHICS.        WITH      GEORGE      HENRY 

Lewes's  Essay  on  Aristotle  prefixed. 

59  LANDOR'S  PERICLES   AND  ASPASIA.      EDITED,  WITH 

an  Introduction,  by  Havelock  Ellis. 

60  ANNALS   OF  TACITUS.     THOMAS   GORDON'S    TRANS- 

lation.    Edited,  with  an  Introduction,  by  Arthur  Gallon. 

61  ESSAYS    OF    ELIA.      BY    CHARLES    LAMB.      EDITED, 

with  an  Introduction,  by  Ernest  Rhys. 

62  BALZAC'S     SHORTER     STORIES.       TRANSLATED     BY 

William  Wilson  and  the  Count  Stenbock. 

63  COMEDIES     OF    DE     MUSSET.       EDITED,    WITH    AN 

Introductory  Note,  by  S.  L.  Gwynn. 

64  CORAL    REEFS.      BY    CHARLES     DARWIN.      EDITED, 

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65  SHERIDAN'S     PLAYS.       EDITED,     WITH    AN     INTRO- 

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66  OUR  VILLAGE.     BY  MISS   MITFORD.      EDITED,  WITH 

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67  MASTER  HUMPHREY'S  CLOCK,  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 

By  Charlea  Dickena.    With  Introduction  by  Frank  T.  Marzials. 

68  OXFORD    MOVEMENT,    THE.      BEING    A    SELECTION 

from  "Tracts  for  the  Times."     Edited,  with  an  Introduction,  by  William 
O.  Hutchison. 

69  ESSAYS  AND  PAPERS  BY  DOUGLAS  JERROLD,   EDITED 

by  Walter  Jerrold. 

70  VINDICATION    OF    THE    RIGHTS     OF    WOMAN.       BY 

Mary  Wollatonecraffc.    Introduction  by  Mrs.  E.  Robins  Pennell. 

71  "THE  ATHENIAN  ORACLE."     A  SELECTION.     EDITED 

by  John  Underbill,  with  Prefatory  Note  by  Walter  Besant. 

72  ESSAYS      OF     SAINTE-BEUVE.       TRANSLATED   .AND 

Edited,  with  an  Introduction,  by  Elizabeth  Lee. 

73  SELECTIONS  FROM  PLATO.   FROM  THE  TRANS- 

lation  of  Sydenham  and  Taylor.    Edited  by  T.  W.  Bolleston. 

74  HEINE'S  ITALIAN  TRAVEL  SKETCHES,  ETC.     TRANS- 

lated  by  Elizabeth  A.  Sharp.    With  an  Introduction  from  the  French  of 
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75  SCHILLER'S     MAID     OF     ORLEANS.        TRANSLATED, 

with  an  Introduction,  by  Major-Qeneral  Patrick  Maxwell. 

76  SELECTIONS  FROM  SYDNEY  SMITH.     EDITED,  WITH 

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77  THE  NEW  SPIRIT.     BY  HAVELOCK  ELLIS. 

78  THE  BOOK   OF   MARVELLOUS   ADVENTURES.     FROM 

the  "Morte  d' Arthur."     Edited  by  Ernest  Rhys.    [This,  together  with 
No.  1,  forma  the  complete  "  Morte  d' Arthur."] 

79  ESSAYS  AND  APHORISMS.      BY  SIR  ARTHUR  HELPS. 

With  an  Introduction  by  E.  A.  Helps. 

80  ESSAYS      OF      MONTAIGNE.       SELECTED,     WITH     A 

Prefatory  Note,  by  Perciyal  Chubb. 

81  THE  LUCK  OF  BARRY  LYNDON.   BY  W.  M. 

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82  SCHILLER'S    WILLIAM    TELL,      TRANSLATED,    WITH 

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83  CARLYLE'S     ESSAYS     ON     GERMAN     LITERATURE. 

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84  PLAYS  AND  DRAMATIC  ESSAYS  OF  CHARLES  LAMR 

Edited,  with  an  Introduction,  by  Rudolf  Dircks. 

85  THE    PROSE    OF    WORDSWORTH.       SELECTED    AND 

Edited,  with  an  Introduction,  by  Professor  William  Knight. 

86  ESSAYS,   DIALOGUES,   AND   THOUGHTS   OF   COUNT 

Giacomo  Leopardi.    Translated,  with  an  Introduction  and  Notes,  by 
Major-Oeneral  Patrick  Maxwell. 

87  THE    INSPECTOR-GENERAL.      A    RUSSIAN    COMEDY. 

By  Nikolai  V.  Oogol.    Translated  from  the  original,  with  an  Introduction 
and  Notes,  by  Arthur  A.  Sykes. 

88  ESSAYS  AND  APOTHEGMS  OF  FRANCIS,  LORD  BACON. 

Edited,  with  an  Introduction,  by  John  Bnchan. 

89  PROSE  OF  MILTON.     SELECTED  AND  EDITED,  WITH 

an  Introduction,  by  Bichard  Gamett,  LL.D. 

90  THE  REPUBLIC  OF  PLATO.   TRANSLATED  BY 

Thomas  Taylor,  with  an  Introduction  by  Theodore  Wratislaw. 

91  PASSAGES    FROM    FROISSART.       WITH    AN    INTRO- 

duction  by  Frank  T.  Marzials. 

92  THE  PROSE  AND  TABLE  TALK  OF  COLERIDGE. 

Edited  by  Will  H.  Dircks. 

93  HEINE  IN  ART  AND  LETTERS.   TRANSLATED  BY 

Elizabeth  A.  Sharp. 

94  SELECTED    ESSAYS    OF    DE    QUINCEY.       WITH     AN 

Introdaction  by  Sir  George  Douglas,  Bart. 

95  VASARI'S  LIVES  OF  ITALIAN  PAINTERS.     SELECTED 

and  Prefaced  by  Havelock  Ellis. 

96  LAOCOON,     AND      OTHER      PROSE     WRITINGS      OF 

LESSING.    A  new  Translation  by  W.  B.  Bonnfeldt 

97  PELLEAS  AND   MELISANDA,  AND   THE   SIGHTLESS. 

Two  Plays  by  Maurice  Maeterlinck.    Translated  from  the  French  by 
Laurence  Alma  Tadema. 

98  THE  COMPLETE  ANGLER  OF  WALTON  AND  COTTON. 

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99  LESSING'S    NATHAN   THE  WISE.      TRANSLATED    BY 
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lOO  THE   POETRY  OF  THE  CELTIC  RACES,  AND  OTHER 
Essays  of  Ernest  Benan.    Translated  by  W.  O.  HutchLion. 

loi  CRITICISMS,  REFLECTIONS,  AND  MAXIMS  OF  GOETHE. 
Translated,  with  an  Introduction,  by  W.  B.  Bonnfeldt. 

102  ESSAYS    OF    SCHOPENHAUER.        TRANSLATED    BY 

Mrs.  Badolf  Dircks.     With  an  Introduction. 

103  RENAN'S  LIFE  OF  JESUS.       TRANSLATED,  WITH  AN 

Introduction,  by  William  G.  Hutchison. 

104  THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  SAINT  AUGUSTINE.    EDITED, 

with  an  Introduction,  by  Arthnr  Symons. 

105  THE    PRINCIPLES    OF    SUCCESS     IN    LITERATURE. 

By  George  Henry  Lewes.    Edited  by  T.  Sharper  Knowlson. 

106  THE  LIVES  OF  DR.  JOHN  DONNE,  SIR  HENRY  WOTTON, 

Mr.  Bichard  Hooker,  Mr.  George  Herbert,  and  Dr.  Bobert  Sanderson. 
By  Izaac  Walton.     Edited,  with  an  Introduction,  by  Charles  Hill  Dick. 

107  POLITICAL      ECONOMY:        EXPOSITIONS      OF      ITS 

Fundamental  Doctrines.      Selected,  with  an  Introduction,  by  W.  B. 
Bobertson,  M.A. 

108  RENAN'S     ANTICHRIST.       TRANSLATED,    WITH    AN 

Introduction,  by  W.  O.  Hutchison. 

109  ORATIONS    OF    CICERO.      SELECTED   AND    EDITED, 

with  an  Introduction,  by  Fred.  W.  Norris 

1 10  REFLECTIONS    ON  THE    REVOLUTION   IN   FRANCE. 

By  Edmund  Burke.    With  an  Introduction  by  George  Sampson. 

111  THE  LETTERS  OF  THE  YOUNGER  PLINY.     SERIES  L 

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12  THE  LETTERS  OF  THE  YOUNGER  PLINY.     SERIES  IL 

Translated  by  John  B.  Firth,  B.A. 

13  SELECTED  THOUGHTS  OF  BLAISE  PASCAL.     TRANS- 

lated,  with  an  Introduction  and  Notes,  by  Gertrude  Burford  Bawlings. 

14  SCOTS  ESSAYISTS:  FROM  STIRLING  TO  STEVENSON, 

Edited,  with  an  Introduction,  by  Oliphant  Smeaton. 

15  ON   LIBERTY.     BY  JOHN   STUART   MILL.     WITH   AN 

Introduction  by  W.  L.  Courtney. 

16  THE  DISCOURSE  ON  METHOD  AND  METAPHYSICAL 

Meditations  of   Ben^  Descartes.     Translated,  with  Introduction,  by 
Gertrude  B.  Bawlinga. 

17  KALIDASA'S   SAKUNTALA,   Etc.     EDITED,  WITH   AN 

Introduction,  by  T.  Holme. 

18  NEWMAN'S  UNIVERSITY  SKETCHES.     EDITED,  WITH 

Introduction,  by  George  Sampson. 

19  NEWMAN'S    SELECT    ESSAYS.      EDITED,    WITH    AN 

Introduction,  by  George  Sampson. 

20  RENAN'S  MARCUS  AURELIUS.     TRANSLATED,  WITH 

an  Introduction,  by  William  G.  Hutchison. 

21  FROUDE'S  NEMESIS  OF  FAITH.      WITH   AN   INTRO- 

duction  by  William  G.  Hutchison. 

22  WHAT   IS   ART?     BY   LEO   TOLSTOY.     TRANSLATED 

from  the  Original  Russian  MS.,  with  Introduction,  by  Alymer  Maude. 

23  HUME'S    POLITICAL    ESSAYS.      EDITED,    WITH    AN 

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TURNER,  J.  M.  W.      By  Robert  Chignell,  Author  of 
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ROMNEY,  George.     By  Sir  Herbert  Maxwell,  Bart., 
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"WILKIE,  Sir  David.     By  Professor  Bayne. 

CONSTABLE,  John.     By  the  Right  Hon,  Lord  Windsor. 

RAEBURN,  Sir  Henry.     By  Edward  Pinnington. 

GAINSBOROUGH,  Thomas.     By  A.  E.  Fletcher. 

HOGARTH,  William.     By  Prof.  G.  Baldwin  Brown. 

MOORE,   Henry.     By  Frank  J.  Maclean. 

LEIGHTON,  Lord.     By  Edgcumbe  Staley. 

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CHILDHOOD,     BOYHOOD, 

YOUTH. 
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THE  LONG  EXILE,   ETC 

SEVASTOPOL. 

THE  KREUTZER  SONATA,  AND 

FAMILY   HAPPINESS. 
THE     KINGDOM     OF     GOD     IS 

WITHIN   YOU. 
WORK    WHILE   YE    HAVE    THE 

LIGHT. 
THE  GOSPEL  IN   BRIEF. 


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WHERE   LOVE  IS,  THERE   GOD 

IS  ALSO. 
THE  TWO   PILGRIMS. 
WHAT  MEN  LIVE  BY. 


THE  GODSON. 

IF    YOU    NEGLECT    THE    FIRE, 

YOU  DON'T  PUT   IT  OUT. 
WHAT  SHALL  IT  PROFIT  A  MAN  ? 


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WHERE   LOVE   IS,  THERE  GOD 

IS  ALSO. 
THE  GODSON. 

Volume  II.  contains — 

WHAT  MEN   LIVE   BY. 
WHAT     SHALL     IT    PROFIT     A 
MAN? 


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THE  TWO  PILGRIMS. 
IF    YOU    NEGLECT    THE    FIRE, 
YOU  DON'T  PUT  IT  OUT. 

Volume  IV.  contains — 

MASTER   AND   MAN. 

Volume  V.  contains — ■ 

TOLSTOY'S   PARABLES. 


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